


A Happy Accident

by Penthesilea1623



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Happily Ever After, No Angst, Romance, True Love, car accident AU, yes sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-15 02:16:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 70,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1287481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penthesilea1623/pseuds/Penthesilea1623
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This started out as rambling on my tumblr about a car accident AU, set in modern day Thedas, in which Anabel Hawke (called Annie by most of her friends) and Sebastian Vael (who runs the non profit interests of the Chantry Corporation) are involved in a car accident on the Wounded Coast Highway outside of Kirkwall.</p><p>There will be romance.  There will be fluff.  There will be sex. There will be parties and designer clothes.  If Harlequin romances took place in Thedas they would look something like this.  </p><p>I need a break from the heavy stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost on the Wounded Coast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie Hawke is lost on the Wounded Coast. Luckily another car comes along and offers assistance.

Anabel Hawke, or Annie as she was called by almost everyone, was lost. She was willing to admit that now.

She didn’t understand how. She was on the Wounded Coast Highway, a road that literally followed the coastline outside of Kirkwall. She’d gone up the coast to photograph a small wedding at a remote bed and breakfast. All she had to do was go back down the coast to return home.

So why the fuck couldn’t she find Kirkwall?

She tried looking at the navigation app on her phone again, and the same banner still proudly proclaimed “service not available”. She needed a real map.

Did people even have real maps anymore? And what were the odds that someone would have left one in this car?

Spotting an overlook up ahead, she slowed down and pulled off, ignoring the grinding sound of the gears. She hated driving stick shift. She just couldn’t seem to get the hang of it, not that she was going to admit that to Carver, who had been reluctant enough to let her borrow the ancient VW bug – a real authentic Bug, not one of those redesigned, shiny new ones that every teenage girl in Hightown seemed to get when they learned to drive, the ones that came with the little built in flower vase on the dashboard. No, this one was over forty years old and every bit of it showed, from the cracked upholstery, to the faded paint that could have originally been red or orange, they couldn’t quite decide, but it had been cheap enough that they could afford it, and got twice the gas mileage of the ‘67 Impala that Carver had wanted to buy, and it was fairly reliable, at least it was when Carver drove it. 

She paused to take off her bra, now that the event was done and she didn't have to dress properly any more, unhooking it, sliding the strap over her shoulder and then slipping it off through the sleeve of her dress. She'd bought the dress at a vintage clothing stand in the Lowtown market, specifically to wear when she had to photograph more formal events; a little black dress made of some artificial fiber that didn’t look or feel artificial, it had a modest neckline, and a hemline which would have been mid-thigh on most women, but on her hit just at the knee. It was entirely unadorned except for a diamond pattern on the waistband, simple and elegant and most importantly, while it didn’t scream vintage it had a slightly funky, bohemian feel to it, so that she didn't feel like she was wearing some kind of uniform while she worked. 

Still holding the bra she leaned over to open the glove compartment to see if there might be a map in there. It popped open and everything in it fell out, papers, a rubber chew toy of Boy’s, a jar of cocktail onions that she didn’t remember having put in there, though she did remember swiping it from Meeran’s office just to piss him off and in the vain hope that he might switch to olives in his martinis, sparing them all his onion breath for a few days at least. That had been months ago when she’d been working as his assistant. She rifled through everything. No maps. Maybe in the trunk?

She shoved everything back into the glove compartment, slamming it twice to get it to stay shut, and then popped the trunk and got out wincing as she stepped on a pebble. She’d ditched the shoes in the back seat as soon as she’d gotten into the car. No one had ever given her a good reason as to why you weren’t supposed to drive barefoot, and Maker knew that the shoes, also picked up at the Lowtown Market, were uncomfortable enough that she wasn’t going to put them back on until she had too. 

There turned out to be an old tote bag in the trunk, which, miracle of miracles did actually contain a map, faded with age, and split along the folds, but it was a map of Kirkwall “and surrounding areas” . She grabbed it and slammed the trunk shut. A gust of wind blew her hair into her face and she brushed it back, cursing when it caught in the hinge of her sunglasses. She’d straightened it this morning before she’d left, again to look respectable, and had it carefully clipped back in a barrette while she’d been working. The clip had been tossed into the back seat along with the shoes.

She spread the map out on the hood of the car, trying to keep her hair out of her face with one hand, and the map from blowing away with the other. She finally ended holding one corner of it down with her hip, practically lying on top of the car. She looked at it and frowned. Well, there was Kirkwall. 

How the Void was she supposed to know where she was without the little pulsing blue arrow showing her? 

Great. Stuck on the Wounded Coast, literally unable to figure out which way she was supposed to go, with no phone service at all. What the fuck was she supposed to do now, wait for a knight in shining white armor to show up? She'd promised the couple she’d photographed that she’d try to get the shots she'd taken online tonight. That was never going to happen if she didn't make it back to Kirkwall soon. 

Plus, she was starving. She’d only managed to grab a handful of hors d’oeuvres at the wedding, and it hadn’t even been the good ones, the chicken sate, or the miniature Antivan empanadas, but some dainty little thing comprised mostly of lettuce with a sad little shrimp thrown in the center. The only thing to eat in the car was the cocktail onions and she wasn’t that desperate. Yet.

She’d just made up her mind to flip a coin and decide a direction that way, when she heard the sound of a motor. She looked up, just in time to see a car round the bend up ahead and come towards her.

Her mouth fell open. That wasn’t just a car. That was a Bentley Mulsanne, one of the few cars she could actually recognize, worth probably more than most of the houses in Lowtown. Maybe than all the houses in Lowtown put together. It pulled smoothly up beside her and the window glided down without a sound, revealing one of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen. 

Were eyes really that blue? She’d have said no a few minutes ago.

He smiled, revealing perfect white teeth and then spoke in a soft cultured Starkhaven burr that almost made her shiver. 

“Do you need assistance?” 

For a moment she could only just stare at him. _Maker, he was perfect_.

He frowned when she didn't answer and asked. "Did your car break down?" 

"The car?" She repeated. She gave herself a mental shake. _Snap out of it, Annie_. "No, the car's fine. Well, fine enough, considering it's ancient and surprisingly temperamental for an inanimate object. But it runs perfectly most of the time. More or less. Some days are better than others. For cars as well as people, I suppose."

 _What the hell was wrong with her?_

Sebastian couldn't keep the smile from his face. He'd been heading back to Kirkwall when he'd spotted the car first, and then it's driver, or to be more precise that magnificent red hair. He'd thought she was a teenager at first. She'd been leaning on the hood, almost lying on it actually, frowning at a map, trying desperately to keep her hair from blowing in her face. She was wearing a perfectly respectable little black dress, but she was barefoot and wearing blue lensed John Lennon sunglasses. It was only when he'd driven closer that he'd realized two things: she was older than he'd first thought, though not by much, early twenties if he had to guess, and she was beautiful. Not just pretty, the way so many girls were, but truly beautiful. 

"So you don't need assistance?" He asked just to be certain. 

“Oh, no. The car’s running fine.”

He smiled trying to think of a reason to stay. “Very well. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

The smile alone made her heart start flittering. “Yes, you too.” It was only as he raised the window that she remembered her dilemma. “No, wait. Shit. I forgot.”

He immediately lowered the window again.

“I’m lost.” She confessed.

One eyebrow rose. “You forgot you were lost?”

She couldn’t help laughing, revealing a dimple just at the corner of her mouth. “Yes, well. Impressive, I know. I do have a map. The problem is, I don’t know where I am, which makes it harder to get somewhere else. Well, I would get somewhere else eventually. It’s unavoidable. But I’m trying to get to a specific place which is more difficult.” She winced inwardly. She’d never been this incoherent in her life. “I’m trying to find my way back to Kirkwall. Do you know the way?”

He smiled again, and again her heartbeat went nuts. That couldn’t be healthy. 

“Yes. Let me just pull off the road, and we’ll take a look at that map.” 

She watched as he turned the car around and pulled smoothly into the overlook, parking just in front of the VW. The driver’s side door opened and he stepped out.

She could only goggle at him. Dressed in a dark suit that probably cost more than what they’d paid for the VW, tall, almost as tall as Carver whose height she’d always considered an aberration, but this man moved with a grace that her little brother lacked. She could only stand there, staring, as he walked towards her.

She was even smaller than he had thought, he realized as he reached her side, though that might be due to the fact that she was barefoot. She looked up at him and his earlier impression was confirmed: she was beautiful, not just pretty. Her lips were red and full, the color all the more remarkable as she didn't seem to be wearing lipstick, and her upper lip was fuller than the lower -- a cupid's bow, his mother used to call it. Her skin was pale, the fairest he'd seen for quite some time in this age of the ever-present tanning salon, and it looked even whiter contrasted with the rich color of her lips and hair, and the black of the dress she wore. This close to her he could see a faint sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose, that made him smile for some reason. Most of the women he knew would have used powder and concealer in an effort to hide them. She didn't seem to be wearing either, didn't seem to be wearing any makeup at all, in fact. A natural beauty. It seemed remarkable. He wondered what color her eyes were. They were large, and dark lashed, he could tell that much, but the turquoise blue lenses of her sunglasses didn’t let him see more.

The wind gusted suddenly and she let go of her hair to grab for the map. It was long enough that when the wind whipped it around, it hit him in the face. He brushed it aside with one hand, marveling at the silkiness of it. It reached almost to her waist. He hadn’t encountered hair that long since he’d been involved with one of the soloists at the Royal Starkhaven Ballet when he was in his twenties, and as much as he’d liked that hair, it couldn’t hold a candle to the color of this girl’s: half a dozen different shades of red, from auburn to a coppery orange, so rich and warm that it seemed to almost glow.

“Shit, sorry.” She lifted an arm to try and hold her hair back and the map blew out of her other hand. She grabbed for it, only realizing as she was doing so that rather than blowing away, it had actually blown straight into him. She ended up slamming both her hands against his chest in an effort to catch it, and letting go of her hair, which immediately whipped around and hit him in the face again. She took one hand away from the map to try and get her hair under control and knocked her sunglasses off her face. They went flying to the ground. She muttered an obscenity under her breath, and tried to reach for them, while still holding the map against his chest. 

She felt a warm, large hand brush against hers as he took hold of the map.

“I’ve got it. Get your glasses.” She’d always thought Starkhaven accents sounded a little odd. She liked this one though. Quite a lot, actually.

She bent down and retrieved the glasses, hooking them onto the neckline of her dress as she straightened up and tried to get her hair under control. 

“I apologize.” She said running her fingers through her hair and then twisting it into a coil and actually tying it in a knot. “I’m not usually such a walking disaster.“ She looked up at him and couldn't help laughing. “And I’m not even walking, am I?” 

He could only stare. It was as if some of the color had leeched out of the lenses of her sunglasses. Her eyes were that same deep turquoise, an even richer blue in fact, mixed with flecks of an almost emerald green. He’d never seen eyes like them – distinctive, and unusual and quite the loveliest eyes he’d ever seen on anyone, man or woman.

“You're probably regretting whatever impulse made you stop right about now, aren’t you?” She asked him. The poor man. She was sure he didn’t know what to make of her. She took the map from his hands and spread it out on the hood again.

“Not at all.” He insisted. And truer words had never been spoken. He was already wondering how he could get her phone number or address without coming across as some sort of lecherous old man. He was at least a decade older than she was. 

“And he’s polite.” She said, almost to herself. “If you just tell me which direction to head in, you can go on your way, and forget this encounter ever happened.” Not that she would be able to.

That seemed highly unlikely, he thought, turning to look at the map. 

“Well, we’re just about here.” He said pointing to a spot on the map. “So you could actually go in either direction and get there.”

She frowned. “Right. And how is that possible?”

He laughed. “Kirkwall is inland from here. If you go this way…” He said, pointing, “You’ll end up near the Docks. The other way loops around, and you’ll enter the city near the Merchant’s Guild building in Hightown.”

“Oh. Which way would get me closer to Lowtown?” 

He frowned not liking the idea of her wandering around that somewhat dubious area. “You’ll want to avoid the Docks, so I’d take the second route.”

She wondered what he would say if he knew she’d spent a year working for Meeran in his dingy office near the Dock's warehouses. It would definitely be quicker to get to Lowtown from there. She gave him a brilliant smile. “Thank you.” She suddenly wished she were Isabela, with the ability to make men produce their phone numbers and an invitation to dinner with just a bat of her eyelashes, though this man might even be out of Isabela's league. Wealthy, handsome, sophisticated, and older, probably in his mid-thirties. She could just imagine the women he dated. Six foot tall sophisticated models who would never be caught lost and barefoot on the Wounded Coast. There was absolutely no reason he’d be interested in her. He’d get in his Bentley and literally drive off into the sunset (because she knew he was definitely going to Hightown) and she’d never see him again.

“You’re most welcome.” He said. His blue eyes actually twinkled. She’d always thought that was just an expression. 

_Maker he was beautiful._ Not just the eyes, but the perfectly sculpted cheekbones, the magnificent patrician nose that was probably the result of centuries of selective breeding, and those sensual lips, not too thin, not too full and she would bet what little money she had that he knew exactly what to do with them. Those lips suddenly curved into a smile, and she looked up and realized she’d been caught gaping at him. She had the feeling he knew exactly what she had been thinking.

She felt her cheeks turn pink. “Thank you.” She said for a second time, and grabbed the map, not bothering to fold it, all but running back to the VW, slipping into the driver’s seat and somehow resisting the urge to beat her head repeatedly against the steering wheel.

He looked at her through the windshield, and still smiling, walked to his own car and got in.

And that was that, she supposed.

Breathing a sigh of frustration that life never worked out the way it did in romantic novels, she turned the key in the ignition, and shifted into reverse, ignoring the protesting of the gears. She put her arm on the back of the seat, and looked carefully over her shoulder. The last thing she needed to do was to cement the impression she’d just made by driving off the edge of the cliff. The sooner she was away from here, the sooner she could get back to her life in the real world. 

_Great._

She released the clutch a bit too quickly and hit the accelerator. 

And the car, instead of going in reverse, shot forward, crashing right into the back of the Bentley, and stalled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [A Happy Accident photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/a+happy+accident)


	2. Exchanging Information

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their accident on the Wounded Coast, Sebastian and Anabel exchange information

For a moment she sat there, stunned, looking through the windshield at the crumpled hood of the VW, clutching the steering wheel in both hands.

How the Void had that happened? 

There was a rapid tapping on the side window and she looked through it to see the beautiful Starkhaven man standing there, looking concerned.

Of course he was concerned. She’d just smashed her beat up car into his Bentley. 

“Are you all right?” He asked, his voice somewhat muffled through the window.

She rolled down the window. When it was halfway down, the crank came off in her hand. She stared down at it. 

“Are you all right?” He asked again. 

She looked at him and then at the crumpled hood of the car again. “Carver’s going to kill me.” She said softly, staring through the windshield. 

Sebastian frowned and opened the driver’s side door, crouching down beside her. She turned those magnificent eyes to look at him. “Are you injured?” He asked gently taking the window crank from her hand and putting on the dashboard. 

Was she? She’d slammed into the steering wheel and her ribs felt sore, but that couldn’t be more than a bruise. She shook her head slowly. “No, I don’t think so.” 

He seemed unconvinced and reached across her to pull up the parking brake, noticing as he did so that there was no diagram on the shift knob; whether it had faded, or whether the VW was an old enough model that it predated that feature he couldn’t have said, but it explained her mistake, in any case. She still hadn’t moved, and he unbuckled her seat belt carefully. 

The movement brought his face within inches of her own, and she caught a whiff of leather and soap and expensive cologne. _Maker, he smelled good_. She inhaled more deeply and then winced at the sudden pain in her side.

He had pulled back just far enough that he caught the wince. “You are hurt.” 

She shook her head. “No, I hit the steering wheel is all. Just a bit bumped up I think.”

He straightened up and held out both hands to help her out.

She looked at his hands; tan, strong, nails perfectly manicured, and after a moment’s hesitation put hers in his, and let him pull her gently out of the car.

When she saw the damage her face fell. “Oh, fuck!” She pulled her hands free and walked to the front of the car. The hood of the VW was completely crumpled. She supposed it was lucky the engine was in the back, but it also meant there had been nothing protecting it – like hitting an empty soda can with a hammer, except in this case the hammer was a Bentley costing tens of thousands of sovereigns. Maybe more. Probably more. 

She took a step closer. The bumper was hanging off the front of the VW. Obviously her car had taken the worst of the impact, but she’d still managed to take out the rear light and put a respectable dent in the back of the Bentley. She ran her hands through her hair. “Fuck.” She repeated, a little more desperately this time. 

She turned to the Starkhaven man. “I am insured, I promise.” She looked back at the two cars. She probably wouldn’t be after this, but she was right now. Did she even have the money to cover the deductible? No, not until she was paid for this job. “Fuck.” She said more faintly, this time. “Carver’s going to kill me.” 

It was the second time she’d said that. Whoever this Carver was, Sebastian didn’t like the sound of him. A quick glance at her hand confirmed she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. “Is Carver your boyfriend?” He asked carefully.

Her eyes widened and her lips twitched with laughter at the idea. She shook her head. “Sweet Andraste, no. He’s my brother. My little brother, actually. It’s his car. Well, technically it’s our car but he’s the one who does most of the driving. I only took it today because I had to get out to a wedding.” 

So she’d been speaking figuratively then, Sebastian realized with relief, picturing a male version of this girl, small, and skinny with the same red hair. Not a threat to her at all then. 

She was staring at the two cars, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. “We’re supposed to exchange information or something, aren’t we?” She asked him. “I’ve no idea what that means though. I’ve never done this before.” 

“Yes, normally I’d say we should call our insurance companies, but cell reception is spotty at best out here. I think if we exchange license numbers and insurance information it should be fine. Then when we get back to Kirkwall we can call our respective carriers and have them deal with the rest.” 

“Right.” Was the insurance information even in the car? “I think it’s in the glove compartment.” She walked around the back of the car and opened the passenger side door, noticing as she did that he had done the same, reaching into the Bentley and pulling out an elegant leather folder. 

Oh, yeah, going through all the crap in her glove compartment wasn’t going to be too embarrassing, was it, but it couldn’t be helped either. She bent down to open it and a sharp stabbing pain shot through her side. She had to grab the dashboard while she tried to catch her breath. _Crap_ , she thought sinking down into the passenger seat. _That couldn’t be good._

After a moment the pain had subsided enough that she could lean forward, very carefully. She opened the glove compartment and everything fell out. Again. All the papers, Boy’s rubber duck, the cocktail onions, and buried in the midst of it all, the lacy black bra she’d removed earlier. 

She stared down at it appalled. How the Void had that ended up in the glove compartment?

Beautiful Starkhaven man was only yards away, walking towards her. _Crap_.

She tried to bend forward to at least hide the bra and managed to perfectly duplicate the stabbing pain. She couldn’t help a small whimper this time. She grabbed the open door of the glove compartment so tightly her knuckles turned white. _Not good. Definitely not good_.

Sebastian had looked up when he heard the small sound, and when he saw her sitting there clutching the car, he crossed quickly to her side. “You are hurt.” 

“I’m sure it’s just a bad bruise.” She insisted through lips that were paler than they’d been a moment before. She succeeded in pushing the bra beneath the papers with her foot. 

Sebastian had his doubts. That sound she had made sounded like more than just a bruise, but he didn’t question her.

“I’m sorry.” She said with an apologetic look. “Everything fell out. I think the insurance paper is somewhere in that mess.” With any luck it would be on the top and he wouldn’t notice the bra.

Sebastian crouched down, momentarily distracted by the emerald green nail polish on her toes. He couldn't help noticing that her feet were as attractive as the rest of her: small and slender, with beautiful high arches. Not even the green polish detracted from them. He turned his attention to the mess on the floor, wondering how all of it had even fit in the glove compartment. The cocktail onions and the rubber duck he ignored, picking up a handful of papers: they seemed comprised mostly of fast food and gas station receipts. There was a handwritten diagram for the stick shift, which apparently she had forgotten was there, or had chosen to ignore, but no registration or insurance information. He reached down and scooped up another pile, and something else came with it: a dainty black lace brassiere. He glanced up at her in surprise. 

Her cheeks turned bright pink. 

He silently handed it to her, trying to hide his smile. 

She crumpled it into a wad and shoved it into the pocket of her dress, unable to meet his eye. “Sorry. I don’t know how it ended up in there. I never wear them normally. I hate the things actually. I only wore one today because I was working, and I took it off as soon as I could. Truthfully, I think they should be banned. Well, maybe not banned. I suppose some people need them. More endowed people. Women, I mean. Not me, obviously.” 

_Andraste’s sweet ass, stop talking, Annie_. 

Her cheeks were flaming now. She wondered if there were any way this could be more embarrassing. “They’re uncomfortable is my point.” She chanced a look and found those startling blue eyes firmly fixed on her.

He wasn't even trying to hide his smile now. “Indeed. I almost never wear one myself.” He said, his eyes twinkling merrily.

The statement earned him another glimpse of her dimple. “Stop smiling.” She ordered him. 

His smile broadened. “My apologies.” He murmured, turning back to the papers. “Here it is.” He looked at the name and then up at her. “Anabel?” He asked in surprise. He hadn’t thought girls were named Anabel anymore. It suited her though.

“Yes.” She said with a small scowl, which still managed to look adorable. “Blame my mother and her penchant for regency romance novels. Everyone calls me Annie.”

“That seems a pity. Does no one call you Anabel?” 

“Not really. Only my mother, and only when she reprimands me, which is pretty much every time we meet.” She said, matter of factly. “Fortunately we don’t meet very often. Do you have one?”

“A mother?” He asked.

“A name.” She said as if the question had been obvious.

He gave her that breathtaking smile again. “Yes. Sebastian Vael.” He straightened up, and opening the leather portfolio began copying down her insurance information.

It must be nice to be so organized, she thought, wondering if she even had a pen that worked. Maybe in her camera bag. Her side was aching a bit, but nothing too bad. She eased herself gently out of the car. That was okay too. She bent carefully down to reach the lever to move the seat forward, and sighed with relief when she accomplished that. She moved forward and stepped on a sharp rock, her ankle twisted and she fell against the car, but it was the white hot pain in her side that made her gasp and clutch at her side. For a moment she couldn’t catch her breath. She felt a pair of strong hands help her stand upright, and then turn her so she was facing him.

“Breathe, Anabel.” He coaxed.

She took a small breath. It wasn’t as bad as she’d feared, so she took another. 

He lifted her arms, resting her hands on his shoulders. “Tell me if this hurts.” He said, putting his hands against her rib cage. They were so large they spanned from her waist to just below her breast.

“If what hurts?” She asked him, her voice still a little breathless, only now she wasn’t sure if it was from the pain, or the fact she was standing in this beautiful man’s arms. More or less. Sebastian. She didn’t think she’d ever met a Sebastian before. 

He moved his hand up, pressing gently. 

“Are you feeling me up?” She asked him, tilting her head back so she could see his face.

A small smile curved his lips. “Well I was just fondling your undergarments. It seemed a natural progression.” He pressed one particular spot and she gasped again, tightening her hands on his shoulders. “Right.” He said abruptly. “What do you need out of your car?” 

She gave him a puzzled look. “What do I need?” She repeated.

“I’m driving you back to Kirkwall.”

“What about the insurance stuff?”

“It can wait. We need to take you to an ER. I think you’ve cracked a rib.”

“No.” She shook her head, seemingly unconvinced. “Wouldn’t I be coughing up blood or something if I’d done that? I’m sure it’s just a bruise.” 

He opened the driver’s side door. “Where’s the lever to tilt the seat forward?”

“You don’t need it, it just bends forward." 

He frowned and reaching for the head rest gave it a gentle push. The seat fell forward to rest against the steering wheel. For a moment he just stared at it, and then turned to look at her. “So when your car hit mine the whole seat slammed forwards?”

She gave it some thought. “It must have.” She admitted. “Well, that would explain the bruise on my ribs.” 

“That would explain the cracked rib you mean.” He tried not to think of what would have happened if she’d been in a high speed collision. “How did this car even pass inspection?” He asked.

“Oh, I know a guy.”

“You know a guy?” He repeated. 

“I sound like some sort of shady underworld figure, don’t I?” She laughed, and immediately winced, holding her side. “But yes. Slip him a few sovereigns and he’ll pass anything.” 

Sebastian didn’t say anything, just reached into the car and pulled out her camera bag, the tote bag she had her laptop in and her shoes and carried them over to the Bentley, putting them on the back seat.

She scurried after him, still holding her side. “You know I haven’t even said I’d go with you.” She pointed out. “I’ve always been told it’s a distinctly bad idea to get into a car with a stranger.

He held open the passenger side door. “You’ll be far safer with me than in that deathtrap of a car.” He informed her. “Besides, we’re hardly strangers. I know all sorts of things about you.”

She raised a dubious eyebrow. “Do you now?”

He gave her that charming smile again. “I know you have a brother named Carver, who’s very attached to his car. I know you have a dog. I know you don’t get along with your mother, and don’t see her very often. I know that you are a terrible driver, who can’t drive a stick shift properly."

She opened her mouth to protest, and shut it again. She could hardly deny it.

He smiled and continued. “I know you live in Lowtown, near the Market.”

“You read that off of the car registration.” She pointed out.

“I know you have an almost reckless disregard for the rules. You drive barefoot, you bribe government employees.”

She cut him off. “Worthy’s a mechanic, not a government employee.” 

“He conducts automobile inspections for the city-state of Kirkwall, and therefore functions as de facto government employee.”

She looked suddenly horrified. “Sweet Andraste, you’re a lawyer aren’t you?” 

He smiled. “I do have a law degree, yes, but I don’t work as a lawyer. You worked at a wedding today but not as a musician or a waiter. A photographer?”

She rolled her eyes. “You just put a camera bag in your car. Anyone could have figured it out from that.”

“True, but not just anyone would know exactly what size and style brassiere you favor.” His expression was serious but his eyes were teasing.

She could feel herself start to blush. “A true gentleman would have forgotten that bit of information.” She told him. She looked longingly at the car. When would she ever get to ride in a Bentley again? “I hardly know anything about you, other than you’re from Starkhaven, you drive an obscenely overpriced vehicle, and wear suits that probably cost more than my car.” 

He closed the car door and walked towards her, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket. When he reached her he held out a business card. 

She took it and looked at it. 

_Sebastian Vael_  
 _Executive Director_  
 _The Chantry Foundation_

She frowned. “You work for the Chantry Corporation?” She didn’t know why she was surprised. The majority of people in Kirkwall seemed to work for them in some capacity or another.

“Yes. I run their non-profit division. As you guessed, I am from Starkhaven originally, but I haven’t lived there in over a decade. The car is a company car I borrowed, as mine is in the shop is having some work done. I currently live in Kirkwall, in Hightown, just off the Chantry Plaza.” He said, naming Kirkwall’s most exclusive neighborhood.

She gave a small snort. “Must be nice.”

“It is. Quite nice, actually.” He agreed with a charming smile. “I’ve never been arrested, I only drink on rare occasions, I’m very kind to children, small animals, and lovely young women who smash their automobiles into mine.” She was still staring at his business card, but her mouth had curved into a smile. “So, Anabel Hawke, will you let me give you a lift to Chantry Memorial Hospital?”

She tilted her head, giving him an assessing look. “No.” She said after a moment.

He looked surprised. “No?”

“I can’t afford Chantry Memorial.” She explained. “I don’t have any health insurance.”

“Of course you don’t.” He muttered under his breath. “I suppose my paying would be out of the question?”

“Quite definitely out of the question, but it is very sweet of you. “ She said with a smile. He really was the nicest man. “I will however let you take me to the Warden Clinic in Lowtown. One of my roommates works there. They’ll take good care of me, without my having to leave them a kidney as payment. Deal?”

Sebastian couldn’t help but admire her independence. A more avaricious person would have taken full advantage of his offer. She didn’t seem to have a mercenary bone in her body. Of course she didn’t have a great deal of common sense either. Charm, however, she had in excess. “Deal.” He agreed. He found himself looking forward to the forty-five minute drive to Kirkwall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [A Happy Accident photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/a+happy+accident)


	3. The Drive Back to Kirkwall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian learns more about Annie on the drive back to town.

“Deal.” Said Sebastian with a smile.

Her heart rate immediately sped up and for a moment she could do nothing but stare stupidly up at him. 

_Maker_. A smile like that shouldn’t be legal, she thought, or at least it should be very closely regulated. It started at his mouth and you could literally watch as it traveled up his face until it reached those ridiculously blue eyes, and by the time it did, you felt as if you were the most important person in the room. 

Of course they weren’t in a room and she was the only person there, but she suspected the feeling would have been the same even if they’d been in the middle of The Hanged Man on a Saturday night.

It was the image of this impeccably groomed and polished and quite frankly beautiful man in the midst of the rowdy weekend crowd at The Hanged Man that made her actually laugh out loud and amused her enough that she could ignore the twinge of pain in her side that the laughing caused.

His smile deepened. “Did I miss something?” He asked. Whether because of her smallness or her youth Sebastian had expected her laugh would be girlish and bubbly. It wasn’t; it was as throaty and caramel rich as her voice and it held that same teasing promise. It was as unexpected as almost everything about her was proving to be.

Her eyes were merry as she looked up at him. “No. Sorry. I was just picturing you at the place in Lowtown my friends and I frequent.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And that made you laugh?”

How could one even explain a place like The Hanged Man to a man like this? “It’s a bit of a dive, frequented mostly by students from the University and starving artists.” He looked so completely at ease in his custom made designer suit, so perfectly put together, not a crease or wrinkle anywhere, not a hair out of place. She wondered if he even owned jeans and a t-shirt. “It’s far too disreputable for someone like you.”

“I’ll have you know I went through quite a disreputable phase myself when I was at university.” He informed her. It wasn’t anything he ever thought he’d be bragging about.

The dimple in her cheek deepened and she shook her head. “No, I don’t believe it for a minute.” 

He smiled but didn’t try to convince her, just opened the passenger side door for her.

She bent to get into the car while picturing him trying to order a drink from Corff or Norah and perhaps it was that image that made her momentarily forget her injury, or maybe she just turned the wrong way, but the sudden stab of pain was so intense she actually lost her balance, and would have fallen if it hadn’t been for Sebastian’s strong arm catching her and easing her into the front seat. When she opened her eyes he was crouched down beside her, frowning.

He still looked beautiful of course. Apparently he could do intense as well as he did charming. She tried to give him a reassuring smile and then realized that she’d grabbed hold of him and was still digging her fingers into his arm. She let go. “Sorry. You know, I’m beginning to think you might be right about it being broken.” 

He just shook his head. “I have never met anyone who so successfully ignores her own injuries.”

“Well, it only hurts when I bend. Or laugh” She said, offering an explanation that sounded feeble even to her.

“Or breathe?” He asked wryly.

Her lips twitched. “Only deep breaths. It’s fine now, truly. I’ll stay very still for the drive, I promise.”

He didn’t look entirely convinced, but he let it drop. “Would you like something to drink before we get going? There’s water and some soft drinks I believe. There may be some fruit juice.”

“What, that’s all you have to offer? No booze?” She teased.

“There is scotch and brandy, but since I think we can safely assume you’ll be given pain killers once a doctor sees you, I’d discourage that.”

She blinked at him. “I was kidding actually. Water would be lovely.” 

“Sparkling or still?”

“Now you’re kidding.” He just looked at her expectantly. Did he have a whole bar back there? “Still.” She said.

He stood and opened the back door and she took the opportunity look at the interior of the car. Maker, it was beautiful. All leather upholstery, leather that actually looked and smelled like leather, in rich beige with accents of a brown so dark it was almost black. She ran her hand over the seat, smiling at the feel of it beneath her hand. There was wooden trim on the doors and the dashboard, real wood not just plastic made to look like wood, a honey color with a beautiful burled grain. She couldn’t even imagine what it must be like to drive in a car like this all the time.

“Your car is ridiculously beautiful.” She informed him. She stretched out her feet in front of her digging her toes into the pile of carpeting that was as luxurious as the rest of the car. Her dusty feet with the green polish on her toes looked entirely out of place. She pulled them back. She should have put her shoes on before getting in.

“Thank you, but it’s not my car so I can’t really take credit. It is nice to be able to borrow it now and then though.” He replied from behind her. “Is a bottle all right, or would you like it in a glass?” 

She smiled, wondering how horrified he would be to see her standing in front of the open refrigerator drinking directly from the milk carton back at home. “Only if the glass is crystal. I mean otherwise what’s the point?” People really lived like this. It seemed incredible.

There was a pause before he asked. “Do you really mean that or are you being facetious?” 

And there really were crystal glasses back there. She couldn’t help smiling. “That second thing.”

“I suspected as much.” He said returning and handing her a bottle of Orlesian spring water. It was cold.

She looked up at him. “There’s actually a refrigerator back there?” She said, not quite believing it.

“Not quite. It’s more of a cooler. It’s not cold enough to chill drinks, but it does a fairly good job maintaining the temperature of something already cold.”

She made a disapproving noise. “You see this is why Carver and I decided against a Bentley. They don’t even offer a decent refrigerator.” 

His eyes twinkled. “Yes, I can see the VW offers so much more.” He closed the passenger door, still smiling and walked around to the driver’s side and got in. 

She’d opened the water and was drinking it, giving him a perfect view of the long line of her neck. She pulled the bottle away running her tongue over that lush upper lip to catch a stray drop. 

_Sweet Andraste_. He had to tear his eyes away from her mouth and back to her eyes. She’d seen him staring and was giving him a puzzled look and he wondered if she was truly so unaware of the effect her appearance had. He couldn’t be the only one she affected like this. 

“Do you need help with the seat belt?” He asked.

She scoffed. “I’m not a complete invalid you know. I’m sure I’m capable of fastening a buckle without any help.” She said, turning to reach for it as she spoke. She pulled down on it and let out an involuntary whimper.

He actually saw her go pale this time. She’d done it again. “Anabel Hawke…” He said in an exasperated voice, as he reached across her, prying the buckle from her hand and carefully fastening it. 

She had to wait a moment for the pain to subside before she could speak. “You sound just like my mother when you say that.”

“I begin to sympathize with her. Do you refuse assistance from everyone you know, or is it just me?” 

He’d meant the question to be rhetorical but she seemed to actually be giving it some thought. “I’d have to say everyone.” She finally said.

He couldn’t help laughing. “You might consider starting to accept it every so often.” He said. “It might make your life a bit easier.” He turned the key in the ignition, and classical music filled the car.

“Ah, but that assumes the offers of help are reliable.” She said absently. The sound system was as impressive as the rest of the car. She felt like she had orchestra seats to a concert. “How many speakers does this car have?” She asked. The VW’s radio got a grand total of two AM stations, one that only played country music, and one an evangelical station, and only the driver’s side speaker worked.

“Twenty.” He told her. “That’s a rather cynical attitude for someone so young.” 

“Twenty?” How did you even fit twenty speakers in a car? And a cooler. “I’m not that young.” She protested. “I’m almost twenty-three.” 

“Oh yes, you’re positively ancient.” He said, shaking his head. She was even younger than he had thought. Was he seriously entertaining the idea of pursuing a girl of twenty-two? She was barely more than a child. More than a decade his junior. He must be mad. The only alternative was he was having a midlife crisis and surely he was too young for that. Both thoughts were disturbing and yet all he could think was he still didn’t have her phone number.

She flushed. Her hair had slipped out of the knot she’d wound it in earlier and she tucked it behind her ear. “It’s not just years that mature you. Experience does play a part.”

“And life’s already worn you down to that extent, has it?” He commented dryly, as he pulled out on to the highway. 

“A few times, yes.” She said quietly. 

He’d been joking but when he looked at her he saw something in her eyes that was truly older than her twenty two years. When she saw him looking, she quickly covered it up with a small smile but he’d seen enough to curse his glib reply. Obviously there was something in her past something that had hurt her, someone that had let her down, something that had happened. “I’m sorry, Anabel. That was a remarkably insensitive thing to say.”

“It’s okay, really. There’s no reason you would have known. Is this Debussy?” She asked.

He let her change the subject. “Yes. _La Mer_. It seemed appropriate for a drive along the ocean.” She knew her classical music.

She leaned her head back . “It’s nice. Surprising.” 

He glanced over at her. “Why surprising?” 

“As proper as you are? I would have figured you for a Bach man, all orderly rhythms and notes, maybe Handel if you were feeling particularly reckless, but not the romantics.”

Proper? Was that what she thought of him? “Apparently we’ve both made assumptions about the other.” 

A small smile curved her lips. “I suppose we have.” 

“You enjoy classical music?” He asked.

“Very much, but I like most music. If I don’t have something playing, I’m singing. Well, if I’m honest I’m usually humming or singing whether there’s music playing or not. It drives my roommates nuts. I’ve always found it disappointing life doesn’t have a soundtrack. I’m doing my best to correct that.” She was smiling again, though there was still a hint of melancholy in her eyes.

“How many roommates do you have?” He asked.

“Right now?” She stopped to think. “Four. And a half.”

“A half?” 

“We’ve got the top two floors of a building in Lowtown that five of us share. Well three floors, technically -- I sleep in the attic, but Varric, our landlord has turned part of the basement into an apartment, but it doesn’t have a kitchen so the guy who lives there uses ours whenever he needs to.” 

“How long have you lived there? 

“Two years. No, three actually.” Maker had it been that long?

“That’s young to leave home.” He’d left Starkhaven for Kirkwall at the same age actually, but she seemed younger somehow.

“Well, my mother remarried. Carver and I didn’t care for her choice of husband and it made things uncomfortable, so when Varric offered us the place we snapped it up.”

“Is that why you don’t get along with your mother?” 

“Part of it. It’s mostly that we have completely different priorities in life. Her marrying Quentin just made that perfectly clear.”

“So your parents are divorced?” He was being unpardonably nosey, but he wanted to know everything about her. He wouldn’t have been able to explain why if he’d been asked.

“No. my father passed away a few years ago.”

He glanced over at her. She’d turned her head and was looking out the window. “I’m sorry.” 

She turned and smiled at him. “Thank you. I still miss him.”

“How old were you when he died?”

“Seventeen.” 

“And you don’t get along with your stepfather?”

“With Quentin? Maker, no. Not at all. He’s the complete opposite of Da. The only thing they have in common is he’s a doctor as well, but my father was GP, a real old fashioned doctor, who would go to people’s houses if they couldn’t come to the office, who really listened to his patients, who really got to know them. A couple of insurance companies actually drop him because he spent too much time with his patients, and he would constantly get into trouble with boards of hospitals where he worked. We had to move all the time when I was growing up because he would lose his job, and every time we moved it was to some place more isolated, and more desperate for doctors. I think Da liked that though, liked feeling useful and needed. He didn’t care if his patients didn’t have any money to pay, or any insurance, he’d take care of them anyway. He was wonderful.” She gave a soft sigh that let Sebastian know that even if almost six years had passed since Dr. Hawke’s death his daughter still felt his loss.

“And your stepfather isn’t like that?” He asked, already suspecting what the answer was.

She gave a short humorless laugh. “Quentin’s a plastic surgeon, and not the selfless kind who goes off and takes care of people who’ve been disfigured in accidents or who were born disfigured. Quentin’s the kind of plastic surgeon who preys on women’s insecurities. He seemed completely enamored of Mother when they first met. He would lavish gifts on her and send flowers constantly – these horribly smelly white lilies that would stink up the whole house. This was when we first moved to Kirkwall when we were living with my uncle. Anyway, they got engaged, and he started making these little comments about the way she looked, how she might want to think about losing weight, and maybe she should skip dessert. Then right before the wedding he suggested she have some Botox injections, just to smooth out the wrinkles on her forehead and around her eyes, just for the wedding pictures of course. After the wedding it just snowballed: liposuction, a facelift, breast enhancement, a tummy tuck, collagen injections, you name a procedure, she’s had it done. And the most ridiculous part is that not only does she not look any younger, she doesn't even look like herself anymore. It's as if all these different unrelated parts have been stuck together with something vaguely resembling her head stuck on top." She frowned suddenly. “Why am I telling you all this?” She asked.

“I did ask.” 

“Yes, but I’m sure you were only being polite. You didn’t need to hear the whole Hawke family saga.” She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “How far away are we from Kirkwall?”

“About thirty minutes or so. Did you need to be somewhere?” 

She’d caught her lower lip between her teeth and was worrying it gently. “No, it’s not that. I told the couple whose wedding I photographed that I’d try to get proofs online so they could see them before they left on their honeymoon. They even offered to pay a bit extra for it.” She couldn’t help sighing. That extra would have come in handy for meeting the deductible on the insurance.

“Could you download and sort through them here in the car?” Sebastian asked.

“I suppose, but I still couldn’t put them online. No internet, remember?” 

He smiled enigmatically and pulled to a stop on the side of the road, switching on the hazard lights before he got out and came around the passenger side, opening her door and leaning across her to unbuckle her seat belt. 

She gave him a puzzled frown. “Are you going to leave me here because I talk too much?”

He laughed. “Quite the contrary. Come.” He said easing her carefully out of the car. He opened the back door and helped her in to the back seat.

She looked around. If possible the back was even more luxurious than the front. “So why have I been banished back here?” She asked him.

He didn’t answer, just reached forward and pressed a button and a tray came down from the back of the front seat. Not a tray, she realized: a full workstation complete with electrical outlet. She looked up at him in surprise. 

“The network is chantry1, and the password is ‘goldencity’, one word, all lower case, no spaces.”

“You have Wi-Fi in the car?” She asked, just to be certain she understood.

“It comes with its own hotspot, yes. It almost makes up for the lack of a proper refrigerator.” He said with a teasing smile.

“You have Wi-Fi in the car.” She repeated. 

“You said that already.” 

“Sorry. I’m just realizing there’s a whole world out there I know absolutely nothing about.” The car had its own hotspot. 

He crouched down beside her. “Now, in just a second I’m going to offer to help you get your computer and camera out of your bag and before you answer, I’d like you to remember the pain you were in when you tried to buckle your seatbelt on your own.”

She didn’t say anything but her dimple was dancing at the corner of her mouth.

“Anabel, do you need any help getting your equipment out of the bag?”

She’d never been especially fond of the name Anabel, but the way he said it was making her rethink that. “Yes, please, Sebastian, that would be lovely.” 

In no time they had everything set up and she was connected to the internet. He reached across and fastened her seatbelt (without asking this time), and as he straightened she reached out and put her hand on his arm. He looked down at it and then up back at her.

“Thank you.” She said simply.

His eyes were warm as he looked down at her. “You’re very welcome.” 

She pulled back her hand and he straightened up, closing the car door and returning to the driver’s seat. He turned to ask if she needed anything else before they set out again but stopped when he saw her. She was already completely absorbed in her work on the expression on her face was one he hadn’t yet seen. No longer girlish at all, it offered him a glimpse of what she might be like when she was older, or maybe it was just seeing that intensity that was such a marked contrast to the laughing, lighthearted charm she’d shown when they first met. He was beginning to realize there was far more to Anabel Hawke than first met the eye.

He wanted to discover it all. 

He turned back in his seat and pulled onto the highway trying to make sense of it. He hadn’t had a reaction to a woman like this in….

Quite honestly he’d never had a reaction like this to a woman, not ever. Hadn’t ever thought he would, and it had certainly been the farthest thing from his mind when he’d seen her standing beside her car on the side of the highway and had pulled over to offer his assistance. 

Elthina always said the Maker worked in mysterious ways. He was inclined to agree with her for once. 

Anabel Hawke didn’t utter a word for the next twenty minutes. She did however hum under her breath almost the entire time, both to the Debussy that he’d had on first, and then to the Bach that followed. 

“What’s that piece called again?” She asked suddenly when it had ended. 

“Air on a G String.” He said with a smile, glancing at her in the rear view mirror.

Her lips had curved into a smile, though she hadn’t taken her eyes from the computer screen. “If you were a different sort of man I’d say you’d made that up.” She hit a button and sighed happily. “Done. “ They were in Kirkwall now, stopped at a traffic light. She looked up and met his eye in the mirror. “Thank you.” She said. “You’ve been so kind to me, and you didn’t have to be.” 

He turned in the seat to look directly at her and found himself lost in those spectacular blue-green eyes. “I’m finding it’s remarkably easy to be kind to you.” He heard himself say. 

She smiled at him, a smile that somehow managed to be both shy and enticing, and suddenly his heart was beating faster. 

The beep of a car horn startled them both. The light had changed without either of them noticing.

It was ridiculous that one small slip of a girl barely out of her teens should be having this effect on him. 

He was going to see her again, no matter how foolish an idea it might be. “Where exactly is this Warden Clinic?” He asked her.

“Go past the market as if you were heading to the Undercity. It’s the building with the lit lanterns in front.” 

He drove carefully through the narrow streets. It had been years since he’d been to this section of the city. It seemed livelier than he remembered, the crowds younger and more eclectic than one found in Hightown. There were numerous restaurants and bars, most with outdoor tables, and most of them seemed to have a good crowd in them, in spite of the fact it wasn’t quite evening yet. He spotted the two lanterns she was talking about – gaslights that must date back to when the whole city was lit by gas, which had somehow managed to avoid being replaced by electric lights.

“You can park in the back.” She told him. “The doctor who’s on call doesn’t have a car so you can use his space.”

He did as she’d instructed and got out of the car to help her out.

She still had one of the pictures up on her computer and his eye was caught by the image –a candid shot of an older couple: the man was tall and grey haired, and looked rather like an aging lion. He had his arm around the woman, who had delicate features and wore a wreath of daisies on her short white hair. She was looking off in the distance and he was looking down at her with such love on his face that it was almost startling to see, and hard to look away from. “Is this the wedding couple?” Sebastian asked.

Anabel had been putting her camera back in her bag and looked up and smiled. “Yes. Emeric and Mharen. Aren’t they lovely? They’d worked at the same place for years, and had been pining for each other the whole time apparently, but it wasn’t until she was laid off that they realized their feelings were mutual. Emeric was outraged that she’d been let go, and raised such a fuss that he ended up taking an early retirement when they wouldn’t reinstate her. They’ve bought a small cottage just outside of Ostwick. They’re going to settle there and run a bed and breakfast.” 

“May I see the others?” He asked, curious to see if the photo had been just a lucky shot, or if she truly was that skillful a photographer.

“Sure.” She turned the computer towards him. “Just keep in mind these are proofs, not the final product.”

He clicked through the pictures, pausing occasionally, but not speaking. He stopped at another picture of the couple, both laughing this time completely focused on each other. Their joy was almost palpable.

“These are wonderful.” He told her. “You have a good eye.”

Her face lit up with pleasure at his words. When he hadn’t said anything, she’d worried he didn’t like them. “Thank you.”

“You enjoy it, don’t you?”

She looked back at the picture of Emeric and Mharen and smiled at it. They’d been so happy today. “I love it – capturing those moments that would be missed or forgotten otherwise. It’s not the easiest way to try and make a living of course, and probably not the smartest thing to attempt it, but I’m just stubborn enough to not give up on it quite yet.” 

He thought of the state of the VW that she shared with her brother. “It must be difficult.”

“At times, but I’ve been getting more work lately. Real work, not the kind I had to do when I first came here.”

“What did you do then?” 

“I worked for a private investigator. The pay wasn’t bad, but I hated it – spying on people, trying to catch them in an incriminating situations. We parted ways when I found out he was setting people up in these situations so that his clients could have the ‘evidence’ they needed.”

“He should be prosecuted.” Sebastian said with a frown. 

“He’s very careful. It would have been my word against his, and he’s helped out quite a few influential people in the city. I was more than happy to settle for just not have to deal with him anymore. I found a semi-steady job taking pictures for a small newspaper, covering local events and such. It doesn’t pay much, but it keeps food on the table and pays the rent most of the time while I try and drum up other work.”

“Have you taken classes?” He asked. The pictures really were very good, and some of them were extraordinary.

“A few. Not as many as I’d like.” She shifted in the seat and winced.

He’d been so caught up in her work that he’d completely forgotten where they were, and why they were here. “Anabel, I’m sorry. Let’s go get you looked at.” 

They packed up her computer, and he walked around to the other side to get her shoes, crouching down to slip them on her feet. 

Anabel watched as he did, wondering at the way the day had turned out. When he’d finished he looked up to find her smiling at him.

She was truly lovely. “Ready?” He asked. He helped her out of the car and couldn’t help noticing she was moving more hesitantly than before. 

“If I asked you if you were all right would you give me an honest answer?” He said looking at her carefully.

She wrinkled her nose. “I seem to have stiffened up a bit.” She admitted. “It hurts a bit more.” 

“Come.” He said frowning at the ramshackle building. He should have just taken her to Chantry Memorial. Maker knew what sort of staff or equipment this place had. He picked up her bags for her, closing the door and locking the car, before ushering her around to the front of the building and holding open the door for her.

Sebastian tried to be objective when he walked inside. It was clean, he would give it that much. The chairs in the reception area were cheap plastic, and the walls were painted a sickly beige color, made more sickly by the fluorescent lighting. It seemed to be deserted except for the receptionist.

She looked up and smiled when she saw Annie. “Goodness. Look at how nicely you clean up. I barely recognize you.” Her eyes went to Sebastian and widened almost imperceptibly before turning back to Annie. “What have you been up to dressed like that?” 

“Hi, Lirene. I was photographing a wedding up on the Wounded Coast. Had to look the part. It’s quiet here tonight.”

Lirene snorted. “Give it a couple of hours and we’ll be quite busy. You know how Lowtown gets on a Saturday night.”

“True enough.” Said Annie. “Is he still here?”

Lirene just rolled her eyes. “Of course. Young, handsome, eligible doctor, where else would he be on a Saturday night but sitting in a clinic in Lowtown working a double shift. Was he expecting you?” She asked hopefully. 

Annie just laughed “No, this is a surprise, but not the good kind I’m afraid. I think I’ve hurt my side. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Sebastian shook his head. “You really can’t stand to admit you’re injured to anyone can you?” He turned to Lirene. “We had a collision on the Wounded Coast. I’m fairly certain she’s cracked a rib. She’s in pain when she bends or turns…” 

“It’s probably just a pulled muscle or something.” Annie interrupted.

“Or laughs or breathes deeply.” He looked back at Anabel, who was scowling up at him, looking like a very cross kitten. He fought the urge to smile. “Denying it won’t make it go away, Anabel.”

“You were in a car accident?” Lirene asked Annie.

“A little one. We were barely moving. Sebastian wasn’t moving at all, actually.”

“Annie Hawke.” Muttered Lirene picking up the phone and punching in an extension. “Annie’s here. She was in a car accident and thinks she may have broken a rib.”

There was a shout of “what?” that could be heard both through the receiver and from down the hall. 

Annie gave the woman an exasperated look. “You had to put it that way? You know how he gets.” She turned to Sebastian. “You’re about to meet Anders, one of my roommates. He’s absurdly overprotective.”

A door slammed open and they heard footsteps running down the hall. A man in jeans and a cotton Henley, with shoulder length blonde hair pulled partially back into a ponytail came charging around the corner. 

Sebastian couldn’t help the frown. This was a doctor? The only clue to his profession was the stethoscope he had draped around his neck. It might have been excusable for someone still in residency but this man was roughly his own age. Then he remembered what else she had said.

This was one of her roommates?

“I told Carver not to let you drive that fucking piece of shit car out to the Wounded Coast by yourself!” He said before he’d even reached her side.

She seemed completely unintimidated. “Yes, I know you did. I nearly had to cancel on Emeric and Mharen you were so convincing.” 

“What the Void happened?” His eyes flickered to Sebastian standing there holding Annie’s computer and camera bags looking completely out of place in the dingy clinic.

“This is Sebastian. I rear ended his car after he was nice enough to stop and give me directions.”

“You got lost.” Said Anders flatly. “Again.”

She shrugged and then winced. 

Anders anger vanished and he was next to her in an instant. “Which side?” He asked.

“Right.” She told him.

He put his hand gently on the right side of her rib cage.

“No,” she said. “Your right.” 

“Sweet Andraste you’re a difficult patient.” He commented moving his hand to her left side. “Tell me when it hurts. You’ll notice I said when and not if.”

“Your bedside manner sucks.” She said, but she was smiling. The smile vanished when he moved his hand up slightly and pressed again. She let out a sound between a cry and a whimper. 

Sebastian took a step forward at the sound but Anders had already put his arms around her and was stroking her hair. “Okay. It’s all right, sweetheart.” He said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Ow.” She muttered into his chest. 

“I won’t be certain until we take an x-ray, but I think you’ve broken two ribs. Well done. Lirene, can you get one of the wheelchairs?"

Sebastian wasn’t sure which he disliked seeing more; Anabel in pain, or Anabel being held in another man’s arms. He looked up to find the man staring at him in a not entirely friendly way. “It wasn’t causing her this much pain earlier.” Sebastian told him.

“That could be swelling, or the ribs could have shifted.” Anders told him, continuing to stroke her hair. “How did it happen?”

“I was parked in front of her. She shifted incorrectly and went forward instead of reversing.” 

Anders started laughing. “Oh yes, that I can believe.”

Annie scowled up at him. “Have I mentioned your bedside manner sucks? Stop laughing at me.”

“I can’t help it.” Anders said as Lirene returned with the wheelchair. “You’re a menace.” He took the chair from Lirene. “Come on, in you go.”

Instead of listening to him Annie turned to look at Sebastian.

“Would you like me to wait and give you a lift home?” He offered. 

“No need.” Said Anders. “I’ll get someone to cover for me and I’ll take her home.” 

Annie turned around and glared at him. “Could we have some privacy, Dr. Anders?” 

He scowled at her but turned and walked over to the reception desk conferring with Lirene about who to phone to take his shift.

When he was out of earshot she turned back to Sebastian with a smile. “Thank you for everything. I’m sorry I’ve been such a bother.”

“Not at all. I’ve enjoyed myself immensely.” He told her. 

She gave him a dubious look. “If that’s true you probably need to get out more.”

He laughed. “I’ve been thinking the very same thing.” He glanced over at Anders who was frowning at him, and then turned back to Anabel. “I’d like to see you again.” He’d given up trying to talk himself out of it. Seeing her in this Anders fellow’s arms had removed any reservations he might have had.

She couldn’t help the smile that came to her lips. “See me?” 

“Yes. Take you out. Spend time with you in a social setting that doesn’t involve a car accident or emergency medical care.”

“Truly?” She said.

“Truly. Is that something you would be interested in?”

“Oh, yes.”

No hesitation, no guile, no games at all. He smiled down at her. “Good. I’ll be in touch.” He bent down and kissed her on the cheek. “It’s been a very great pleasure meeting you, Anabel Hawke.” 

“Yes.” She said breathlessly. “It has.” She flushed when she realized what she’d said. “Meeting you I mean. Not meeting me.” She started laughing, and immediately put her hand to her side. “Go quickly, before you change your mind.” She told him.

He was still smiling as he left the clinic. 

Annie turned to find Anders at her elbow. “In the chair.” He ordered her.

“I think I have a date.” She told him with a smile as she sat down carefully.

Anders eyes went to the door. “With him? He’s much too old for you.”

“He’s probably your age.” She pointed out.

“I’m too old for you. You don’t know anything about him.”

“Yes I do. He works for the Chantry Foundation. He’s originally from Starkhaven. He lives off the plaza in Hightown. And he came to my rescue and didn’t even seem to mind when I smashed my car into his.”

“Just a knight in shining white armor, huh?” Said Anders skeptically, picking up her bags and hoisting them over his shoulder. 

“Yes, my very own fairy tale, so don’t spoil it with your tales of doom and gloom.” She said happily as Anders wheeled her towards the x-ray room. “Sir Sebastian, my knight in shining armor.”

Lirene gave a small snort from the reception desk. “Try prince.”

Both Anders and Annie gave her a puzzled look.

“Neither one of you knows who that was?” Lirene asked, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“Sebastian Vael.” Said Annie. 

Anders froze. “You are shitting me.” 

Annie still looked confused.

“You’re telling me that was Sebastian Vael. Prince Sebastian Vael? Of Starkhaven?” Asked Anders.

Annie gave an uneasy laugh. “He’s not a prince.” She insisted.

Lirene raised an eyebrow and went over to one of stacks of magazines, picking one up and flipping through it until she found what she was looking for. She handed Annie the open magazine.

Annie looked down. There was a picture of Sebastian looking impossibly handsome in a tuxedo holding the elbow of a tall brunette in a somewhat fussy blue gown. She looked at the caption.

_Lady Flora Harimann attends the Chantry Foundation’s Summerday ball with Prince Sebastian Vael, the executive director of the charity._

Her eyes went round. Prince Sebastian Vael. “Holy crap.” She said under her breath. She’d just agreed to a date with a prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the features of the Bentley Mulsanne that I mention in the story are in fact true and not made up. There's a reason the starting price is about a quarter of a million dollars.
> 
> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [A Happy Accident photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/a+happy+accident)


	4. What Are You Wearing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Annie effectively drunk-dials Sebastian while on the narcotics she's taking for her broken ribs.

Anders let go of her hand just for a moment to dig his keys out of his bag and when he looked up she was gone.

In hindsight he probably should have waited until they got home to give her painkillers. Annie Hawke was hard to keep track of even when she wasn’t under the influence of narcotics. The doors to The Hanged Man were wide open, live music was being played on the patio (which until recently had been known as “that garbage filled alley next to the Hanged Man”), crowds were overflowing on to the sidewalk. Without a question that’s where she would have gone.

Unless she’d gone to prowl around the market. 

Stuffing his keys into his pocket he pushed his way past the crowds blocking the entrance and looked around.

“What the fuck do you mean you wrecked the car and left it on the Wounded Coast?” Someone shouted.

Carver. Well at least he knew Annie wasn’t at the market. Once he knew to look for Carver it was easy to find her. The boy towered above most of the people in the bar and there was Annie’s bright red hair right beside him.

“I smashed it into a Bentley. Oh, Carver, you would have loved the Bentley. It had twenty speakers. And a refrigerator. Sort of. And a prince was driving it.”

Carver was staring at her. “Are you drunk?”

“No. Are you?” She turned as Anders walked up to them giving him a beatific smile. “I told Carver about the car. He is not taking it well.” 

“Of course I’m not taking it well, you wrecked the fucking car.” 

“I said I was sorry!” She snapped at him before reaching for his bottle of beer. 

“Did she tell you the part where she broke two ribs in this accident?” Anders asked taking the bottle from her hand and passing it back to Carver. “No alcohol. You’re on narcotics, and it’s not a good mix.” He told her when she opened her mouth to protest. 

Carver turned to her open mouthed. “You broke two ribs?”

“Uh-huh. In hindsight we probably should have had the driver’s seat fixed.”

“You drove out to the Wounded Coast without fixing the fucking driver’s seat?” Anders shouted.

She frowned at him. “I really wish that everyone would stop yelling at me.” She turned away, trying to get Corff’s attention. 

Carver looked at Anders. “Is she okay?”

Anders just rolled his eyes. “She’s got two broken ribs, Carver. She’s looking at 6-8 weeks before they’re healed, so no, she’s not okay.” He looked over just in time to see her accept a bottle of beer from Corff. “No alcohol.” He reminded her taking this bottle as well, and passing it to Carver. “Come on, I’m taking you upstairs.” He said, taking her by the hand again. “You’ll just get into trouble down here.”

She turned back to look at Carver as Anders led her from the bar. “I might have a date with a prince.” She called to him.

Carver just sniggered and picked up her now abandoned beer. “You really are high, aren’t you?” 

 

Annie leaned against Anders’s shoulder as they left the bar, both of her arms wrapped around one of his. He wasn’t really surprised – she was an affectionate soul, physically affectionate as well as emotionally, bestowing hugs, and kisses on the cheek and cuddles on any and all of them.

He’d been wary of it at first. His divorce proceedings had only just begun when he’d answered the ad in the Lowtown Gazette about a room to rent. He’d meant it to be a temporary arrangement, just until he could scrape together enough for a deposit for his own place. He’d called and spoken to Carver (who’d sounded much older than nineteen on the phone) and set up a time to see it. He pressed the intercom outside the entrance and a woman’s voice had answered “Hi, come on up.” And buzzed him through. 

He’d gone up the flight of stairs that led to another door, and before he could knock the door opened and Annie was standing there.

After two years with Velanna and her icy pale good looks his first impression had been of color and brightness and warmth. She seemed to almost glow in the dimly lit entrance. She’d been wearing leggings and a dark red V-necked men’s sweater that was slipping off one shoulder revealing skin that was startlingly pale, and her bright hair had been skewered on top of her head by what seemed to be a chopstick, not an elegant lacquered one but one of those wooden ones that you got with takeout food that snapped in two. A few curls had already escaped. “I’m Annie. You must be Anders. Taste this.” She’d said holding out a wooden spoon with what appeared to be tomato sauce on it. 

Because he couldn’t think of a way to say no, he’d obediently taken a taste and grimaced.

“I know.” She said, sounding as appalled as he now was. “It’s awful, isn’t it?” She frowned down at the spoon. “I don’t know where I went wrong.”

When he could speak again he said. “Too much salt and you burned the garlic.”

“Oh. I don’t suppose that’s something that you can fix?” She said walking towards what he assumed was the kitchen. 

He followed her after closing the apartment door, walking through a generously sized living room that contained a beat up couch and some rickety looking bookshelves that were overflowing with books. “No.” 

She’d left the sauce, if one could call it that, boiling and it had splattered all over the white stove. She turned off the flame and scowled down at it. “Well, shit. I thought it would be nice to cook something from scratch for once. I should have known better than to attempt it. We can order pizza I suppose. What do you like on it?” She asked him. “I’ll eat anything but anchovies and green peppers.” 

He’d frowned at her. “What do I like on it?” 

“Well it’s dinner time and you’re here. I assume if pizza is delivered you’ll have a slice. This is the kitchen by the way. It’s got all the basics, stove, refrigerator and all that. Nothing fancy but it all works. Do you cook?”

“Only when I have to.” He’d said, unable to keep from smiling.

“See I can’t cook even when I have to. I don’t know why. I’m actually quite clever but the culinary arts elude me for some reason. Do you want to see the bedrooms?”

“I spoke to someone named Carver on the phone.” He said still not quite certain who she was.

“That’s my brother. He was supposed to be here too but he’s wholly unreliable and a bit of a complainer if I’m quite honest. Still, he’s not a bad sort. Do you want something to drink to take the taste out of your mouth?”

“Please.” 

She opened the refrigerator. "I’ve got water and cucumber-flavored vodka.” She turned to look at him. “Is vodka supposed to be refrigerated?” She asked with a frown.

“Are you even old enough to drink?” 

“I just turned twenty, so yes. Is water okay or shall I run downstairs and get you something from the bar? Varric, our landlord, owns the place downstairs too. It’s handy if we run out of ice.” 

“Water is fine.” 

She filled a glass and handed it to him. “So, bedrooms.” 

“Is anyone else here?” He asked with a frown as he followed her out of the kitchen.

“Nope. Just us. Carver’s taken the bedroom at the back on this floor. There’s one next to him, but he snores like a locomotive so I wouldn’t recommend it.” She started up a narrow flight of stairs. “There’s three on this floor. I’ve been using the one that overlooks the market as an office-slash-workroom-slash storage room, but if you like it I can switch to one of the others.”

“Do you always show strange men the bedrooms in your apartment when you’re home alone?” He asked.

She glanced back at him with an easy grin. “You don’t seem that strange.”

“I could be a serial killer for all you know.” 

She’d stopped with her hand on one of the doorknobs and looked at him as if considering the idea. “No.” She said shaking her head before opening the door. 

“Just like that?” 

“I have a good sense about people.” She’d smiled at him, showing the dimple at the corner of her mouth.

He’d barely looked at the bedroom before agreeing to take it. Somebody needed to look after her, and apparently it wasn’t her brother.

That had been almost three years ago.

They reached the door to the apartment and Anders disentangled his arm from her grasp and moved her next to the door where he could keep an eye on her. “Stay.” He told her.

“You sound like you're talking to Boy.” She leaned her head back against the side of the building.

“The dog listens better than you do.” He said pushing the door open. Merrill had left her bicycle in front of the stairs again and he moved it out of the way before taking Annie’s elbow and guiding her up to the front door. She was humming again, something by Bach.

“I can see why people get addicted to these pills.” She said as they reached the top. “They make you feel all floaty. It’s kind of nice.”

“Most people they just put to sleep.” Not Annie apparently. He wasn’t so surprised. She seemed to thrive on only four or five hours of sleep a night.

They walked into the apartment. Isabela had both the television on and music playing and was nowhere in sight. Anders shut them both off and dropped their bags on the floor by the couch as Boy came bounding out from Carver’s room to greet them. 

“What do you want for dinner?” He asked.

“Anything. I’m starving.” She replied, scratching the dog behind the ears.

They moved into the kitchen and Anders stopped short.

There, on the kitchen table was a vase of roses. Two dozen. No, more than that, roses of a color he’d never seen before that seemed to range from pale pink to peach to orange to a deeper pink all at once.

“You have had an interesting day haven’t you, kitten?” Commented Isabela from the doorway. She was wearing jeans shorts and a Hanged Man t-shirt that she’d cut into a V at the neck to show her cleavage, and short at the hem so her bare midriff was exposed. She must be bartending tonight, Anders thought. She always showed more skin on top when she was behind the bar, to make up for not being able to show off her legs and ass the way she could when she was waitressing. She made better tips that way she always said, showing no shame whatsoever about it. He kind of admired her for it.

Annie blinked in surprise. “They’re for me?” She went over and buried her face in them inhaling the scent and Anders realized the roses perfectly echoed her own brilliant coloring. “Who are they from?” 

_Prince Sebastian bloody Vael of course_ , thought Anders.

Annie’s lips curved in a pleased smile suddenly and he knew she’d figured it out too. She looked expectantly at Isabela, who gave her an indulgent smile and produced a card from behind her back and handed it to her.

“You didn’t open it?” Annie asked.

“I hope you appreciate my restraint.” Isabela said.

“I do.” Annie said, tearing open the envelope.

_I’m a fool who just left you at the clinic without getting your phone number. Call me tomorrow to tell me what it is so that I can call you back and ask you to dinner. The flowers are to make up for my egregious oversight and to say I hope you’re feeling better._

It was signed with his name and his cellphone and home numbers.

“Look at that smile!” Said Isabela sounding absolutely delighted. “Don’t tell me you’ve finally found your prince?”

She didn’t understand why Annie started laughing or why Anders scowled.

 

Anders ended up making them both some scrambled eggs and toast, and they sat on the couch watching mindless sitcoms. Halfway through it Anders noticed she was falling asleep, and caught her plate just before it slid to the floor. He let her stay where she was until eleven and then woke her to take two more painkillers.

“Come on.” He told her when she’d swallowed them. “Bed.”

“I’m not tired now.” She protested as he herded her towards the stairs.

“You will be when the pills kick in.” 

“Wait. I want to bring my flowers up with me.” 

He rolled his eyes. She’d insisted on bringing them into the living room as well. He picked up the vase, sloshing water on his pant leg and cursed.

“Careful!” She exclaimed. 

“You can carry them yourself in a minute.” He warned her. 

“Do I have to leave the bandage on while I sleep?”

“No you can leave it off, but I want you putting it on tomorrow if only to remind you you’re injured.” 

He helped her change into a t-shirt of Carver’s, doing his best to ignore the bare skin of her back as he unzipped her dress and pulled the t-shirt over her head.

“I should call him and say thank you.” She announced and he realized she was looking at the flowers.

“It’s almost midnight, and you’re definitely under the influence, trust me you want to wait until morning."

“I really don’t you know. I mean, did you see him? Unf.”

“Unf?” He asked. 

“It’s an acronym. Universal noise for fucking.” She laughed at the expression on his face.

“Yes, the fact you just said that to me only emphasizes the soundness of my advice. Wait until the pain killers have worn off. Do not call him now.”

“You’re right.” She said with a sigh. Her eyes went to the roses.

Anders shook his head. “Give me your phone.”

“I wasn’t going to call him!” She insisted.

“Uh-huh. Give it to me anyway.”

She reluctantly passed it to him and sighed. “I can’t sleep.” She gave him a hopeful look. “Play for me?”

“Annie…”

“Just a little. And then I’ll be good, and not call any princes and go to sleep without any more complaints.”

“Promise?”

“Have I ever lied to you?” She asked all big eyes and innocence. 

“Probably twice a day every day since I met you.” He grumbled.

“I’m going to brush my teeth.” She told him ignoring the comment, and retreated into the small bathroom. He went downstairs, pausing only to put her phone on the bookcase behind a stack of paperbacks, where she wouldn’t see it, and got his guitar. 

She’d given it to him the first Solstice Day after he’d moved in. He’d said something about having played the guitar when he was at university and she’d remembered it and found a surprisingly decent guitar in a pawnshop near the clinic and gotten everyone to chip in for it. He’d been pleasantly surprised at how relaxing he found playing again.

When he returned to the room she was sitting on her bed – two mattresses pushed together into a space by the window, piled high with pillows and comforters. He sat down on the edge and strummed, pausing to tune it. “What do you want to hear?” 

She moved so she was leaning against his back. “Something slow and squidgy.” She told him.

“I’m not sure I’ve got squidgy in my repertoire.” He said with a smile.

“You know what I mean.” She said reaching up to pull the hair elastic out of his pony tail. His hair immediately flopped into his eyes.

“Annie….” He complained.

“I like it down. It makes you look like a disreputable scoundrel.”

He rolled his eyes. “Something everyone looks for in a physician.” 

“You’re so hung up on titles.” She teased.

“Says the girl who picked up a prince on the Wounded Coast today.”

“I only found that out after.” She insisted, leaning her head on his back. “Play.”

He did, for about twenty minutes, until she’d stopped playing with his hair and moved away to lie down on her pillows. When he turned to look her eyes were closed and she seemed to be fast asleep. He pulled one of the covers over her, pressed a kiss to her forehead and went back downstairs. 

As soon as she heard the door close she rolled over looking at the vase of flowers. She should call Sebastian and thank him. He wouldn’t be asleep yet. He struck her as the kind of person who stayed up late. 

She got carefully out of bed and went over to the bookcase, pushed aside the paperbacks and retrieved her phone. Anders was ridiculously easy to spy on. 

 

Sebastian had just poured hot water into a mug and added a teabag when his phone rang. He frowned as he retrieved it from the kitchen counter. It was after eleven. He didn’t recognize the number.

Unless…

He hit the answer button. “Sebastian Vael.”

There was a pause and then that rich melodious voice he’d been hoping to hear said “Hi.”

“Anabel?” He said, just to be certain.

There was a happy sigh at the other end. “I like the way you say my name. Say it again.”

He was confused for just a minute and then realized. “Did your friend give you pain pills, Anabel?”

“Oh yes. Tylenol with codeine. They’re very nice. It doesn’t hurt at all anymore.”

He couldn’t help smiling. “I’m glad. Is this your cellphone or your landline?” He asked so he could add it correctly to his directory. He couldn’t believe he’d left without getting her number earlier.

“My cell phone. I would have called earlier but Anders took it. He didn’t think it would be a good idea if I called you while under the influence.”

Sebastian frowned, wondering just what her relationship with this man was. “I’m glad you got it back.”

“I got your flowers. I brought them up to my bedroom. They’re beautiful. No one’s ever sent me flowers before.”

That couldn’t be right. “I saw them and they seemed perfect for you.”

“How’d you even find a place that delivers flowers down in Lowtown on a Saturday night?”

By paying an exorbitant fee to a florist that the Foundation gave thousands of sovereigns worth of business to each year. “To quote a young lady I met earlier today, ‘I know a guy’.” 

She laughed then. “I’m trying to picture you right now. Where are you?”

“In my kitchen making myself some tea.”

“You have one of those stainless steel white and grey and black and angular and antiseptic kitchens don’t you?”

“It’s not quite that bad. One wall is mostly glass and it looks out into the garden and patio. Another is exposed brick. The counter and floor are slate. There is a quite hideous chandelier that I’m going to have my decorator replace.” He looked at it wondering again what the man had been thinking. “And there’s a table made of reclaimed wood.” 

“Uh-huh. So brown and grey and black. You need some color in your life, Sebastian Vael.”

He thought of her flaming hair and blue green eyes, the redness of her lips and the pale blush of her cheeks. She was more right than she knew. “Yes, I do. Tell me the colors around you right now.” 

She smiled, not even needing to open her eyes. “Violet and red and green and blue. Orange and yellow. I have a ridiculous number of throw pillows on my bed. And I have lights strung on the ceiling and around the window in the same colors.” 

“No white or black or grey at all?”

“I have a sheepskin rug that’s off white. And my sheets are sort of a greyish blue. Does that count? What are you wearing?” She asked abruptly and started laughing. “Maker that sounded horrible, like this is some sort of obscene phone call.”

“Drawstring cotton jersey trousers. Yoga pants to be precise.” He answered.

There was a pause. “You do yoga?” 

“You sound surprised.” He’d been doing it for years, since coming to Kirkwall.

“I am. It doesn’t go with those designer suits and fancy cars.” 

“You’re something of a snob, Anabel Hawke. Does one preclude the other?” 

Yoga pants. “Are you not wearing a shirt?” She asked with a frown. 

“I am not.” 

_Maker._ “Oh.” She wondered what that looked like. 

“Have I surprised you again?” He asked when she didn’t say anything.

“I was just picturing it. Got a bit distracted. I’ll bet you look nice.”

_Had she said that out loud?_

“Anabel? Are you still there?”

“Yes. I was afraid of what I might say next. Anders was right to tell me to wait until morning to call you. These pills seem to have shut off any filter I had between my brain and my tongue. I apologize for all my lecherous comments.” 

“Make it up to me by telling me what you’re wearing.”

“A t-shirt from last year’s renaissance fair up on Sundermount. It’s red and has two knights jousting over my chest.” That didn’t sound right. “I mean the picture is over my chest. The knights are just jousting. It’s what they do at renaissance fairs…” Her voice trailed off.

“Indeed.” 

She could hear the laughter in his voice. “You’re laughing at me.”

“No. Smiling rather broadly, but not laughing.” She hadn’t said she was wearing anything else and he contemplated asking her about that but contented himself with thinking of those slender white legs. “Is your hair down or up?”

“Down.”

“It’s beautiful, you know.” 

“Do you really think so?” 

He could hear the pleasure in her voice. “Yes. The color is spectacular, and it feels like silk.” She didn’t say anything. “Anabel?”

“How do you feel about the pre-Raphaelites?” She asked abruptly.

“The painters? I like some better than others. I like Burne-Jones and Waterhouse. Some of the others get a bit twee.”

“How do you feel about pre-Raphaelite hair specifically?” Before he could answer she’d continued. “You see my hair isn’t actually straight and silky at all. It’s curly. Ridiculously curly. Downright pre-Raphaelite. I only straightened it for today, to look more respectable.” He didn’t say anything. “Sebastian?”

“I’m picturing it.” He told her. “I’d like to see it like that.” 

She smiled. “Would you?”

“Yes. It must be magnificent.”

“It’s a bit of a pain, actually. It gets everywhere.” 

“Have you always worn it long?” 

“No. Not always. I used to keep it around shoulder length. And then someone asked me to let it grow.” 

“Who was that?” 

There was a pause. “My little sister.”

He frowned trying to remember if she’d mentioned a sister earlier. “I didn’t know you had a sister.” 

There was another pause. “I did. She died just before we came to Kirkwall. Leukemia. She’d had it when she was younger, and we thought it was in remission and then after Da died it came back. She was the reason we moved here. She’d been accepted into a drug trial at Kirkwall Medical School for a new treatment, but she had to be hospitalized in Gwaren before we could leave Ferelden. She didn’t make it.” 

“Anabel…I am so sorry.” He thought of his glib remark earlier. 

_Life’s already worn you down to that extent?_  
 _A few times, yes._

“How old was she?” He asked.

“Eighteen. She was Carver’s twin. My mother blamed me, because I found the trial and got her into it. The doctors back home had given up, had said there wasn’t anything more they could do. I thought it was a chance worth taking. She was upset, I know that, but it wasn’t fair, her blaming me for Bethy’s dying.”

“No, it wasn’t.” He felt a flare of dislike for Anabel’s mother.

“Anyway, when Bethany first relapsed and was going through chemo she started losing her hair. She had the prettiest hair, straight and dark and thick. She hated losing it. Hated being bald. That makes her sound superficial and vain but she wasn’t, not at all. She was the sweetest person I’ve ever known, and she never complained about being sick. The first time I ever saw her cry about it was when she lost her hair. It hadn’t happened when she’d had chemo the first time she got sick, and we just assumed it wouldn’t this time either. She was so upset about it that I went and got Da’s old electric razor and was going to shave my head as well, to keep her company but she told me to grow my hair instead, to grow it for the both of us. I haven’t cut it since then.” Her voice cracked a bit on the last word. She cleared her throat. “I just trim it occasionally. Sorry. I didn’t mean to get so maudlin. I’m not usually this much of a downer. I’m going to blame the pills.” 

He had no idea she’d gone through all this. She was such a joyful, merry person. You’d never know... “I think you’re extraordinary.” He told her truthfully.

“No.” She denied. “Bethany was the extraordinary one.” She leaned her head against the window, looking up at the sky. “Can you see the moon from where you are?”

“Hold on. Let me step outside.” He picked up his tea and stepped out on to the patio. “Yes. It’s beautiful.” It wasn’t quite full, and he couldn’t have said if it was waxing or waning but it seemed larger than usual and bathed the garden in moonlight.

“Isn’t it? I have a window next to my bed. I can just lie here and look up at it. I like thinking that you’re looking at it too.”

He couldn’t help smiling as he sat in one of the chairs. “I like that too.”

“That was a weird thing to say, wasn’t it? Fucking pills.” There was another pause. “I didn’t mean to say that last thing out loud. Sorry.” 

“Will you have brunch with me tomorrow?” He asked. 

“Yes.” She said without any hesitation.

“Where would you like to go?” 

“Some place down here. The place we live over actually serves quite a good brunch. It’s fairly casual.” She wondered suddenly if he would show up in a suit again. “Do you own any jeans?”

He laughed. “Yes, quite a few pairs actually.”

“Oh good. I was worried. The Hanged Man’s not really a suit and tie kind of place.”

“You think I’m horribly stuffy, don’t you?”

“No, I think you’re wonderful. Just very proper.”

He leaned back in the chair and put his feet up on the table. “I’m really not you know.”

“You’ll have to prove it to me.” She said holding up two fingers so it looked like she was holding the moon between them.

“I’m looking forward to doing so.” He said, and there was something else in his voice that made her heart skip a beat.

“Are you?” She asked, her voice suddenly ridiculously breathy.

“Very much. I like your voice like that.”

“Like what?” She thought she knew but she wanted to hear what he would say.

“Low and breathless as if you're imagining all the improper things I’m thinking of doing to you.”

She smiled and closed her eyes. “Oh, that.” She lay there for a minute thinking of exactly that. “Are you going to kiss me tomorrow?” 

He thought of that full upper lip. “Very probably. It that all right?”

She felt herself begin to smile like an idiot. “Yes. With tongue or without?” She asked and her eyes flew open. She’d actually said it out loud. “Is there some kind of truth serum in codeine?”

He laughed. “Not that I’ve heard of. As for the other thing, I’ll leave it a surprise.” 

She pulled a pillow over her face. “I’m blushing horribly right now. I’m sure it clashes with my hair.”

“I’m sure you look beautiful.” He looked at his watch. It was well past midnight. “You should get some sleep.”

“Yes.” She said still not wanting to hang up.

“Shall I pick you up at your apartment?”

She thought of her roommates’ usual Sunday morning routine. No one was awake before noon most Sundays, and no one was out of pajamas until early afternoon and sometimes not even then. “No, I’ll meet you at the Hanged Man at around 11:30?”

“That sounds perfect.” 

“I’ll snag us a good table outside. Sebastian?”

“Yes, Anabel?”

“I’m glad I met you.”

It was a simple, heartfelt statement, not designed to tease. “I’m glad as well. Get some sleep. And Anabel?”

She really did like hearing him say her full name. “Yes?”

“I’ll probably use tongue.” He ended the call before she could respond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [A Happy Accident photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/a+happy+accident)


	5. Brunch at The Hanged Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie and Sebastian learn more about each other during their brunch at the Hanged Man.

Annie had just turned the water off in the shower when she heard a knock on the door. It opened before she had a chance to respond. “Naked here!” She called out. 

“And I’ll bet you look nice.” Said Isabela. She was the only person Annie had ever met who could leer using only her voice. Annie had told her that once and she’d just laughed and said it had come in handy when she’d worked as a phone sex operator a few years back.

Annie poked her head out of the shower curtain. “What are you doing up so early?” She asked. After a Saturday night of bartending Isabela tended to sleep until late afternoon. She was wearing only the Hanged man t-shirt she’d had on last night and a skimpy pair of scarlet red bikini underpants. 

“I have to pee.” Isabela informed her, crossing the room to the toilet.

Annie quickly ducked back behind the shower curtain. Isabela had no qualms whatsoever about using the toilet in front of you, something that had startled her, horrified Carver, and very quickly inspired Anders to install a lock on the bathroom door when Isabela had first moved in with them a couple of years earlier. 

Annie always forgot to use the lock.

She reached gingerly for one of the towels. The hot shower had helped, but Maker, she was sore today. Realizing that bending over wasn’t going to be possible she squeezed as much water as she could out of her hair and put the towel over her shoulders before reaching for the larger towel and wrapping it securely around herself.

The toilet flushed and she pulled back the shower curtain and stepped out of the shower.

Isabela was rummaging under the sink and surfaced holding a cigarette and a lighter. She climbed up on top of the toilet tank and opened the window before lighting the cigarette and taking a long drag. She turned her head and exhaled out the window. “So what are you doing up and about?” She asked.

Annie wiped the steam off the mirror and her lips curved into a pleased smile. “I have a brunch date.” She informed her.

Isabela’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Good for you, Kitten. Roses guy?”

The smile deepened. “Yes. Roses guy. Hold that thing out of the window please.” She ordered. “I’d prefer not to reek of cigarette smoke when I see him.”

Isabela rolled her eyes but obediently moved the hand holding the cigarette so it dangled outside. “You’ve been spending too much time with Doctor Doom and Gloom.” 

“You know he’s going to have a fit if he catches you smoking in the apartment again. “ Annie commented trying to ring more water out of her hair using the towel. Isabela’s smoking was a point of ongoing contention with Anders.

Isabela just shrugged. “It’s good for him. Let’s him release some of that tension. I thought roses guy’s note said dinner.”

Annie was carefully shrugging on the faded kimono that served as her robe. It was of a scarlet red with an enormous dragon embroidered on the back. She’d found it at a flea market out at the Bone Pit when they’d all piled into the VW for a road trip one Sunday, and had managed to bargain the price down to slightly less than half of the original asking price. She was still inordinately proud of that achievement. “We talked last night and decided on brunch instead.” She picked up her underwear and frowned at it.

“If you’re trying to decide whether to wear it or not, my vote is no.” Isabela offered.

Annie laughed. “I’m not sure underwear is quite as much of an optional for me as it is for you, but that’s not the problem. I can’t bend forward to enough to put it on without it hurting.” 

Isabel slid off the toilet tank and walked over to her. Sticking the cigarette in the corner of her mouth she took the underpants from Annie’s hands, bent down, and held them out so she could easily step into them. 

Annie was smiling at her when she straightened up. “It’s a true friend who helps you on with your underwear in a time of need.” She informed her.

Isabela gave her a teasing smile. “I’ll help you out of it later, unless you get a better offer from roses guy.” She laughed when Annie’s cheeks turned red and gave her a careless kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad you’ve found someone nice to have brunch with, Kitten.”

There was a sudden pounding at the door. “Isabela! Open up. I know you’re smoking in there.”

Isabela quickly dropped the cigarette in the toilet and flushed it before crossing and pulling the door open so abruptly that Anders stumbled into the bathroom. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She told him and swept out of the room without looking back.

Anders stood there for a moment, unable to believe the brazenness of the woman before turning to Annie. “It’s in the rental agreement. We could throw her out for it. We bloody well should.” 

Annie just shrugged. “She just helped me get my underwear on; I’m not throwing her out. Besides, you’d miss her as much as I would.” She told him, picking up a comb and starting to untangle her hair. 

“Don’t be so sure about that." He frowned when he saw how stiffly she was moving. "How are the ribs?” He asked.

“Sore.” She admitted reluctantly. 

He frowned. “Did you take your pills?”

“I took a couple of regular Tylenol when I woke up. I want to be coherent for my date.”

He stared at her for a minute. “You already called him?” He asked, though he knew the answer.

She gave him a mischievous smile. “I called him last night. We’re having brunch. You’ve really got to get better at hiding things.”

“Apparently I do.” He muttered. She already had a date with him.

Maybe that wasn’t such a disaster. She’d been out on more than a few first dates since he’d moved in. Second dates were far rarer, and no one had yet made it to a third date, so he didn’t know why the idea of this first date with Sebastian Vael should bother him.

All right, that was a lie. He knew exactly why it bothered him. He’d refrained from pursuing her himself because she was so young and inexperienced, and at first (if he were perfectly honest with himself) because if anything went wrong with the relationship, as it undoubtedly would with the ten year age gap between them, he’d have to find a new place to live.

When he'd been living there for about a year he’d realized that not wanting to move had nothing to do with being inconvenienced, that he was actually quite happy living here with Annie, seeing her every day, looking out for her, taking care of her, but that still didn’t change the fact that she was still so damned young; he’d felt like an old lecher even considering anything more than their current relationship.

And then in waltzes Vael, actually three years older than Anders, and infinitely more experienced, a true playboy if the gossip magazines were to be believed (and yes he had looked up the man on the internet last night, and hated himself for doing so).

Vael hadn’t even hesitated, just swept her off her feet in the course of an afternoon. 

“Anders? You there?” It took him a moment to realize she’d said something. He looked down at her. She was holding out the elastic bandage he’d put on her at the clinic the night before.

“Would you?” She asked staring up at him with those big blue-green eyes.

As if he could say no to that look. He didn’t answer, simply took the bandage from her hands. 

She untied the belt of her robe as he moved to stand in front of her.

“Hands on my shoulders.” He told her, deliberately focusing his eyes at a point above her head, trying to ignore the white smoothness of the sliver of skin revealed between the two scarlet panels of the open robe. 

_Stop it_. He ordered himself. He’d been a practicing physician for years now, and was more than capable of shutting out any thoughts of a sexual nature while caring for a patient. Right now, Annie was just another patient, nothing more. His palm brushed against the warm, smooth skin of her stomach, and he actually had to pause briefly before he could continue.

Damn Sebastian Vael. He’d been more than capable of controlling his attraction to Annie Hawke before he’d appeared.

He didn’t even want to think why that was, but he suspected a psychiatrist would have a field day with it. 

He finished wrapping the bandage as quickly as he could and took a step back. “That should do. Enjoy your brunch.” He said, rather magnanimously, he thought. and turned to leave.

“Wait!” She pulled a yellow sleeveless dress off a hanger on the back of the door. “Will you zip me up?” She asked.

He was being punished for some forgotten sin, he just knew it. “Sure.” He turned to face the door so she could slip the dress on. He heard the rustle of fabric and couldn’t help picturing the robe dropping to the floor and the dress being slipped on.

“Okay.” She told him. 

He turned around. She was standing with her back to him. The dress was open, and the zipper went down past the small of her back giving him a tantalizing glimpse of her panties, white, and made of some sort of stretch lace.

He swallowed hard and stepped up behind her, brushing her hair over her shoulder before yanking up the zipper. It promptly got caught in the fabric of her underwear.

“Son of a bitch.” He muttered under his breath, tugging at it.

“Something going on back there I should know about?” Annie asked over her shoulder. 

He’d never felt the need for a drink this early in the day, not even when he’d been married to Velanna. “The zipper’s stuck.” He explained. He tugged it a few more times and then resigned himself to the inevitable, going down on one knee to look at it more closely. After a few seconds of maneuvering both fabric and zipper, he had finally gotten it free when the bathroom door opened and her brother walked in. 

For a moment Carver just took in the scene; Annie, standing there, her dress still unzipped, Anders kneeling behind her, his face inches from her bottom, one hand still inside the dress, the other on the zipper.

So it was going to be one of those sorts of days, was it? Anders thought, shaking his head. “Just marvelous.” He said under his breath. He got to his feet and pulled the zipper up, before pushing past the boy and returning to his bedroom, ignoring Carver’s outraged, “What the fuck was that?” and Annie’s perplexed response of “What was what?”

He wasn’t sure which he found more irritating, Carver’s assumption he was making some sort of blatant pass at Annie, or Annie’s being so completely unaware of him sexually that she didn’t see anything compromising in the way Carver had found them. 

He was going back to bed. 

 

Sebastian had arrived in Lowtown far earlier than he needed to, and had spent the last forty-five minutes wandering through the market purely to kill time. He was still a good quarter of an hour early for meeting Anabel, but the doors to the Hanged Man were open now; they hadn’t been when he’d first arrived.

It was an interesting place. The name obviously came from the sign that hung outside: a large wooden cut out of a helmeted knight, dangling upside down from a rope tied to one foot. He wondered how long the place had been here – from the look of it, quite some time. The alley next to the place had been converted to outdoor seating, and new windows had been put in the front of the building giving it light and an openness that he was certain it hadn’t had originally. Both the windows and the doors were now wide open to the street. What he could see of the inside was dark wood, both bar and tables, and rustically plastered walls with exposed wooden beams that were probably original to the building. It had a marvelous feel to it. One could easily believe that pirates and smugglers and all sorts of disreputable types had populated it at one time. If Lowtown took off as Sebastian was beginning to suspect it was going to in the next few years, the Hanged Man was in a prime location, right in the center of things, overlooking the bustling market. 

He’d just decided to go in and get a table when a flash of color to the left caught his eye. He turned his head and saw Anabel stepping out of a doorway at the far end of the building.

 _You need more color in your life, Sebastian Vael_ , she’d told him on the phone and there she was, seeming almost to glow with color against the drab tan stone of the building. She was wearing a sleeveless dress in a bright marigold yellow, embroidered with white flowers. Her vivid red hair was pulled back at the crown with the rest left tumbling loose down her back in a mass of unruly curls. If her hair yesterday, smooth and silky straight, had made him want to reach out and stroke it, the sight of these wild curls made him want dig his hands into it, to grab handfuls of it and pull her close up against him.

 _Where on Thedas had that come from_ , he wondered. There was no denying he’d found her attractive when he'd met her yesterday, but this positively visceral reaction to the mere sight of her, that was something of a surprise. 

Anabel Hawke continued to surprise him, he realized with a smile. There weren’t many people who did these days.

He felt as if he could feast on all the colors of her; drown in them quite happily, with a smile on his face. A part of him had thought he must have exaggerated her looks, that she couldn’t possibly be so lovely, but there she stood, even more beautiful than he remembered. She still hadn’t noticed him and he took pleasure in watching her unobserved. She locked the door, and tucked the keys into the pocket of her dress, and then she looked up and saw him. Her whole face lit up with pleasure she didn’t bother to hide, and she began moving quickly towards him.

He wondered if she ever hid her emotions. Somehow he didn’t think so. He was moving to meet her almost before he realized it. 

They stopped when they were about a foot apart and for a moment they both just stared each other. 

_Maker_. She thought looking up at him. She’d thought he was beautiful before wearing his expensive custom made suit but dressed like this, in faded jeans and a white polo shirt that revealed all sorts of unexpected muscles, he was just breathtaking. Quite literally.

“Hi.” She managed to get out. “I’m not late am I? I thought I was early for once.” A curl blew across her cheek, and she brushed it back impatiently.

“You are early actually.” He said. 

And then it occurred to her. “You’re early too.” She couldn’t help smiling at the realization. 

“I am.” Sebastian said. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes from her. She was wearing lipstick today, a deep rich shade of red and his eyes lingered on those lush lips for a moment, before returning to the blue-green of her eyes.

“You don’t strike me as a man who miscalculates the time of his arrival.” She told him, still smiling.

“I’m not.” He admitted, moving a bit closer to her.

“Oh. Any particular reason for the error today?” She had to tilt her head up to keep looking at him. He made her feel positively tiny. She tried to ignore the way her heart was suddenly racing. Another curl blew into her face but before she could brush it aside his hand was there tucking it back behind her ear. She could have sworn she felt his fingers tighten briefly in her hair, but almost immediately he pulled his hand free again.

“Yes.” He said. There was a sudden warmth in his eyes. “I wanted to see you again. As soon as I possibly could.”

He bent down and for one heart stopping moment she thought he was going to kiss her on the lips but he merely brushed his mouth lightly against her cheek, before straightening up again. It was still enough to bring a rush of color to her cheeks. “You look beautiful this morning.” He told her.

She shook her head and the color in her cheeks deepened. “No.” She said, denying it.

He mentally added pink to all her other colors. He took a closer look at her. Like the little black dress she’d worn yesterday, the yellow dress was cut in a style that was popular several decades earlier, sleeveless, close fitting to the waist, with a full skirt that came to just below her knees. Her feet were in simple tan sandals that tied around her ankle. She looked fresh and bright, and beautiful. It hadn't been an empty compliment. She truly was beautiful, and she didn’t seem to realize it.

A car horn honked and she turned her head to look, and Sebastian realized she was wearing a white ribbon in her hair. 

He was out on a date with a girl of twenty-two who was wearing a hair ribbon. It felt like something that should alarm him, but he couldn’t keep from smiling at the sight of it. On her it seemed anything but childish, he realized, and he couldn’t help thinking of other uses that could be found for that ribbon. 

She turned back and saw the smile and gave him a suspicious look. “What are you thinking?” She asked him.

The smile deepened. “I’m thinking that you are possibly the most feminine creature I have ever encountered. You positively revel in it. It just pours out of you.” 

She couldn’t help laughing. “Yes,” She admitted freely. “I’m a girly-girl. Is that bad?” 

“No. But it brings out all sorts of primitive things in me I hadn’t quite realized were there.”

She blinked at him, her heart suddenly racing again. “Oh.” She looked down at the ground in confusion. 

He reached down and put a gentle finger under her chin, lifting it so she was looking at him again. “Is that bad?” He asked gently, echoing her question. There was heat in his eyes that hadn’t been there a few minutes before.

Her mouth was suddenly dry and she had to lick her lips before she could answer. She saw his eyes go to her mouth when she did, and her heart seemed to skip a beat. “No.” It was exciting, she almost said out loud. Arousing, actually, and maybe the tiniest bit scary, but not in a bad way. Not in a bad way at all. She rather liked it actually. “No.” She repeated a little more breathlessly. “It’s not bad.” 

She met his eyes and both of them smiled. The heat she’d seen before was still there, even hotter she thought, and she found she liked that too. It felt almost like when Carver used to dare her to jump off the high dive the summer they’d both learned to swim. Exciting as anything, and frightening, but oh the feeling when you flung yourself off the edge of the board, and knew there was no going back. 

She hadn’t thought relationships could feel like that.

“Now I can’t tell what you’re thinking.” Sebastian commented.

“I’m thinking I am probably way out of my league right now.” She confessed.

He laughed. “I was thinking something similar.” He’d actually been thinking that he had never reacted to a woman like this before. Never have I ever. The words to the drinking game seemed to repeat in his head. 

_Never have I ever reacted to someone the way I react to Miss Anabel Hawke._

“Shall we get a table?” He asked finally, though he would have been perfectly happy to just stand here looking at her for a while longer.

“Yes.” She said with a brilliant smile. “I’m starving. I fell asleep during dinner last night. Those ridiculous pills Anders gave me.”

He’d forgotten her injury. “How are you feeling this morning?”

She sighed happily up at him. “Wonderful.”

He gave her a puzzled look. “Your ribs don’t hurt?”

“Oh.” She said as if she’d forgotten. “Yes, they’re a bit sore. I took some Tylenol. Regular Tylenol, not the other embarrassing stuff.” She gave him a contrite look. “I’m sorry about that phone call, by the way.”

“Are you really?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

She laughed then, that same rich throaty laugh that he’d liked so much yesterday. “No, not at all. I loved our talk.” 

He smiled at the sound of it. “Good. So did I.”

“I’m glad.” She said simply, and slipped her hand into his, leading him towards the Hanged Man. 

He looked down at their joined hands and found himself smiling again. How long had it been since he’d held someone’s hand? He couldn’t even remember. 

There was no one at the podium by the door and Anabel let go of his hand and moved behind it, pulling out the seating chart. 

“If you’re not working today, Hawke, out from behind the podium.” Said a gruff voice. 

Sebastian knew that voice. He looked over in surprise at the short, stocky man walking towards them.

“I’m just seeing which tables are open.” Anabel explained, not moving at all. “Can we have sixteen? And why are you playing host?” She asked looking over at him.

“Merrill’s running late this morning.” Varric told her. He was staring at Sebastian with a slightly puzzled frown. 

“This is Sebastian.” Anabel explained. “Sebastian, this is Varric Tethras, my friend, landlord and sometimes boss.”

“We’ve met before.” Sebastian said, reaching out to shake the man’s hand. “How are you, Mr. Tethras?” 

“Sebastian Vael.” Said Varric shaking his head in seeming disbelief. “Welcome to the Hanged Man.”

“I’d no idea you were in the restaurant business as well.” Maker knew the man had his fingers in almost every other business in Kirkwall. 

Varric gave him a charming smile. “The Hanged Man’s more of a hobby, really. A bit of an experiment.” He said evasively. 

Sebastian looked around the interior, marking the renovations that had been made and mentally calculating the cost. The figure he came up with fit in with what he’d thought walking around the market earlier. If Varric Tethras was putting that much money into a Lowtown business, Lowtown was definitely going to take off.

Annie was looking back and forth between the two of them. “Is there anyone in Kirkwall you don’t know, Varric?”

Varric just chuckled. “I could ask the same of you, Hawke. How’d the two of you meet, anyway?”

“I ran the VW into the back of his car yesterday.”

Varric burst out laughing.

Annie turned to Sebastian, shaking her head. “Why does that make everyone laugh?” She didn’t wait for an answer but turned back to Varric. “So, table sixteen, free, or not?”

Varric wiped at his eyes. “Yeah, it’s free. Help yourself.” He handed them two menus. “I’ll send Norah over to take your orders.”

She leaned forward and kissed him on his cheek. They were roughly the same height. “Thank you, Varric. You’re my hero, you know. My one true love.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what all the girls say.” He said dismissing them with a wave of his hand.

She took Sebastian’s hand again, leading him towards the patio. “I need to talk to you later about picking up some hours behind the bar.” She called over her shoulder.

Varric was marking something on the seating chart. “Sure. Just let me know when you can work.”

Annie led Sebastian through the restaurant and out on to the patio to a table at the back, next to a railing that overlooked the rest of Kirkwall – the Docks, and the Harbor. You could even see the Gallows. 

“I didn’t think there was a view like this from Lowtown.” Sebastian commented pulling out her chair for her. 

She lowered herself carefully into it. “Isn’t it nice? This is my favorite table in the place. It’s exactly what I pictured when I was convincing Varric he should set up the tables out here.” 

He slid into the chair opposite her. “This was your idea?” 

“Oh yes. So was putting the windows into the main room. I’d seen photos of a place in the old quarter in Orlais that had done it.” 

And Tethras had been smart enough to listen to her. “Do you work here as well?” He asked, remembering what she had said before.

She nodded. “Sometimes, if Varric needs the help, or if I need extra money.”

“As a waitress?” 

She laughed. “No, I tried that and I’m hopeless at it. No one ever got what they had ordered. I bartend from time to time.” 

Before Sebastian could comment on that a dark haired and slightly weary looking woman came up to the table. She was wearing a red Hanged Man t-shirt: it had the name of the restaurant with a large picture of the sign and the address and phone number beneath it. “I’m Norah, I’ll be your wait…” She started to say and the she smiled when she saw Annie. “Oh it’s you, Annie. You’re up early for a Sunday.” Her eyes went to Sebastian and widened slightly. “And I can see why. What can I get you?” 

Anabel didn’t even look at the menu. “I’ll have the chocolate chip pancakes, and some coffee.”

Norah scribbled it on the pad. “Whipped cream and powdered sugar?”

“Yes please.”

“Syrup too?”

“Of course.”

Norah just shook her head. “I don’t know where you put it all. I’d be wide as a house if I ate the way you do. A mimosa?”

Annie shook her head. “Not today. But steal me some strawberries if you can.”

“Right.” She turned expectantly to Sebastian.

He glanced over the menu. “I’ll have the frittata and coffee as well.”

“Do you want something alcoholic?” Anabel asked. “I’m only passing on it in case I have to take one of Anders’ pills later. Corff makes a wonderful Bloody Mary. Well, people say they’re wonderful. I loathe tomato juice so I couldn’t really say.”

“Just coffee is fine.” He said giving her that same warm smile he had out on the Wounded Coast the day before.

“Wow.” Said Norah, under her breath. They both turned to look at her. “Sorry. I’ll be right back with the coffee.” She turned to leave and Sebastian saw the t-shirt had the phrase _It means being drunk_ in quotation marks, written diagonally in thick black script across the back. 

He turned back to Anabel. “It means being drunk?” He asked.

“People always ask what the name of the bar means. I did some research. It’s slang from a few hundred years ago.”

“A clever marketing idea.” Sebastian commented.

She laughed. “Really, I was just tired of answering the question.”

“So it was your idea?”

“I was just thinking out loud one night after closing when we were all playing cards. Varric’s the one who had them made up. He sells them at the bar. Makes a tidy profit on them.” 

“And he’s your landlord, as well?”

“Yes. And I take pictures for The Lowtown Gazette -- that’s his newspaper. I don’t know where Carver and I would be without him. We met him at quite a low point in our lives.”

“How did you meet?” There were rumors that the Tethras family had quite close ties to the shadier dealings of the Merchant’s Guild, though to be honest those rumors had centered around the other brother, Bartrand.

She laughed. “I got mugged actually – someone snatched my purse. Carver and I were chasing after the guy, but Varric caught him, and got my purse back. We started chatting. He found out we were looking for a place to live and let us move into the top floors here at a ridiculously reasonable rent, and we’ve been here ever since.” She smiled suddenly. “Say frittata again.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you making fun of my accent, Anabel Hawke?”

“I’m growing to love your accent, Sebastian Vael.” She said with a twinkle in her eye. “Especially when _t's_ and _r’s_ are involved. Just once, for me.” She looked at him hopefully.

He shook his head before smiling back at her. “Frittata.” 

She laughed delightedly. “Thank you.” She reached over and gave his hand a quick squeeze. 

He caught it in his before she could pull it back. “You’re welcome.” He told her, running his thumb over her fingers.

She suddenly forgot how to breathe.

A shadow fell over the table. “Don’t you ever answer your fucking phone?”

Sebastian looked up in surprise. A large hulking man in his early twenties was standing there scowling at Anabel. 

“And good morning to you too, Sunshine.” Annie said, with a roll of her eyes. She gave Sebastian an apologetic look. “This is my brother Carver. He was raised in the wild among wolves and was only recently returned to civilized society which explains his manners. Carver, this is Sebastian. It was his car I ran into yesterday.”

 _This was her brother?_ Thought Sebastian, remembering the picture he’d had in his head of a small skinny redhead boy who closely resembled Anabel. This man bore no resemblance at all to her. He was taller even than Sebastian was, more muscled and far bulkier with thick black hair, and skin that was almost olive. Carver turned to look at him and Sebastian realized that his eyes were identical to Anabel’s, that same unusual mix of blue and green. It removed any doubts that they were related. He put his napkin on the table and got to his feet, holding out his hand. “Sebastian Vael.” 

Her brother looked momentarily suspicious and then took the hand offered and shook it. “Carver Hawke.” He said gruffly.

“We just taught him ‘shake’. We’re going to start on ‘fetch’ next.” Annie informed Sebastian.

Her brother scowled at her. “At least I’ve managed to master which direction’s reverse and which one’s forward.” He snapped.

Sebastian thought she might take offense but she just laughed. “Touché. Why were you trying to call me anyway?”

“Where are the fucking car keys?” He asked.

She just frowned. “Why do you even need the keys? You’re not going to be able to drive it.”

“Like you’d know.” He turned to Sebastian. “You saw it. Is it driveable?

Annie interrupted before Sebastian could respond. “What makes you think he knows anything more about cars than I do?” She asked.

Carver just rolled his eyes. “Because, Little Hawke, everyone knows more about cars than you do. I don’t know how you even managed to get your driver’s license.”

Her mouth twitched. “I’m not certain myself, actually. I thought after I drove over the corner of the curb when I turned it was a lost cause, but the guy testing me didn’t seem to think it was important. He told me at dinner that lots of people do it.” 

Sebastian frowned. “You dated the man who gave you your driving test?” He asked sitting back down.

“Just the once. Turned out he was married with two kids, can you believe it?” She turned back to Carver. “They’re in my camera bag in the outside pocket. How are you even getting out there?”

“Gamlen’s giving me a ride. He’s borrowing a tow truck from one of his lowlife friends. If it’s working I’ll drive back, if not we’ll tow it.” 

She feigned surprise. “You came up with that idea all by yourself? Aren’t you a clever boy?”

“Shut up.” Said her brother, but there wasn’t any heat behind it. “Nice meeting you.” He told Sebastian, and walked away.

“Say hi to Gamlen.” She called after him. Carver grunted a response and she turned back to Sebastian.

“Little Hawke?” He asked.

“Well, I am little. But it’s what my father used to call me. Everyone called him Hawke, and we looked alike. Same hair, same build, same pale skin, same eyes. So I was Little Hawke.” 

“Then your brother takes after your mother’s side of the family?”

“Yes, except for the eyes. People never think we’re related until they see our eyes.” 

“They’re quite spectacular.” 

She gave him a happy smile. “They’re Da’s eyes.” She told him. “It’s nice to be able to see them when I look at Carver, or even at myself in the mirror.” She frowned. “That sounded strange, didn’t it? But it’s true. It makes it feel like Da’s not gone somehow.” 

Norah appeared with their coffee and Sebastian watched as Annie poured a generous amount of cream into hers and then added three packets of sugar. “Tell me about this whole prince thing.” She said. “I had no idea, you realize. I couldn’t believe it when Lirene told me.”

He wondered if she’d known. It hadn’t seemed like she had. “Truthfully there’s not much to tell. Starkhaven voted to end the monarchy more than a year ago. It’s a true democracy now.”

“And you didn’t mind giving it all up?” 

He gave her an easy smile. “I gave up any claim to the throne more than twelve years ago, while I was still at university. I didn’t see the point of a hereditary monarchy in this day and age. So I met with representatives from Starkhaven’s parliament and signed an official document renouncing my place in the succession. In return they granted me the right to retain the title of Prince of Starkhaven as long as I lived, as well as an embarrassingly generous monetary settlement. I didn’t particularly want either at the time, but both have proved to have their uses.”

She took a sip of her coffee and added another packet of sugar. “How did the rest of your family feel about it?”

“At the time I think they were relieved. I’m the youngest of three sons. Both of my brothers are older and have wives and families of their own. They thought my stepping aside made the succession more secure. Now, somewhat ironically, my family’s refusal to accept parliament’s decision last year has resulted in their retaining neither their titles nor their money and they’ve been exiled from Starkhaven as well. They live in Orlais now. In Val Royeaux.”

She looked thoughtful. “So technically you’re the last of your line?” 

He hadn’t thought of it quite that way. “I suppose I am, technically.” 

“The last prince of Starkhaven. Sound like a particularly cheesy romance novel. It must be hard for your parents.”

“In some ways. They had funds and investments enough outside of Starkhaven that they’re able to live quite comfortably in Orlais. They are rather upset with me, however. They seem to think that if I hadn’t renounced my title all those years ago that the people of Starkhaven would never have thought to do away with the monarchy completely.”

“It’s nice to hear my mother isn’t the only totally irrational parent out there. So you don’t speak to them, then?”

“On the contrary. We see each other every two or three months as we always have. It’s all very…civilized.”

“It sounds awful.” She told him frankly.

He couldn’t help laughing. “That as well.” 

She reached her hand out and gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry.” She said, and he was surprised to see genuine sympathy in her eyes.

“It’s all right, truly. I was never close to my parents, but I’ve had several quite wonderful surrogate parents over the years.”

Their food arrived just then and he watched, vaguely horrified as she poured syrup over pancakes already laden with chocolate chips and white with powdered sugar.

“Why does Varric Tethras call you by your surname?” He asked her.

She’d taken a bite of her food and had to swallow before she could answer. “I think he likes the incongruity of it. There’s not much hawk-like about me, really.” She paused to lick a bit of syrup off the tip of her finger. 

He had to tear his gaze from her mouth. “Yes. I’d have to agree.” 

She speared another bite of the pancakes and saw him watching her. She held it out. “Would you like a taste?” 

He leaned forward and took the bite she offered and immediately regretted it. He quickly took a swallow of his black coffee to wash it down, and then another in an attempt to rid his mouth of the overpowering sweetness. “You do have a sweet tooth, don’t you?” He asked when he could speak again.

She gave him an unrepentant grin as she took another bite herself. “I do.” She agreed. 

“It’s a wonder you haven’t developed diabetes.” He informed her. He watched in dismay as she picked up one of the strawberries and dragged it through the accumulated sugar, syrup and melted chocolate chips on her plate. 

She couldn’t help laughing at the expression on his face. “You look positively appalled.” She told him taking a bite of the strawberry.

“I am. How can you possibly desecrate a strawberry in that way?” 

She just raised an eyebrow. “I suppose you're one of those purists when it comes to food? No sugar on your fruit and your coffee black? I like my strawberries with sugar, and whipped cream, and chocolate as well if I can get it.” 

He put his utensils down and looked at her. “When is the last time you had just a plain strawberry?” 

She tried to remember. She couldn’t. The realization made her laugh. “I honestly don’t know. It must be years.” 

He picked up one of the strawberries from the bowl. “These strawberries are perfect.” He informed her. “It’s the height of the season. You’ll not have strawberries as good until late next Spring. Look at it: rich red, perfectly sweet, bursting with flavor.” He frowned suddenly, realizing with all the syrup and sugar she'd consumed, she’d need to clear her palate if she had any hope of truly tasting the fruit. He returned the strawberry to the bowl, and quickly cut off a piece of his frittata and held out the fork to her. “Eat this first.”

She blinked large round eyes at him. “Eat what?”

“The fritt…” He broke off mid-sentence and gave her a reproving look.

The dimple had appeared at the corner of her mouth. “The what?” She asked innocently.

He tried to look stern. “No. I’m not opening myself up to your ridiculing of my accent, Anabel Hawke.”

“Go on.” She teased. “Just one more time. For me.”

He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t keep from smiling. “Just eat the frittata, Anabel.” He told her.

She laughed merrily “See, was that so hard?” She leaned forward and took the bite off of his fork.

He waited until she’d swallowed and then reached down and picked up the strawberry and held it out to her. She tried to take it and he shook his head. “No. You aren’t trustworthy. As soon as it was in your hand you’d dip it in that sugary mess on your plate.” He held it closer to her mouth. Most of her lipstick had worn off, and yet her lips were still red enough to be an almost perfect match for the berry. He couldn’t help wondering if they’d taste as sweet. Perhaps not he admitted, but he knew which one he’d choose if both were offered. He watched as she leaned forward and took the berry between her lips and then bit lightly down.

Her eyes closed as the flavor burst on her tongue. He was right. These strawberries had no need of anything else. She opened her eyes to tell him that, and found him staring at her so intently that whatever she’d been about to say simply vanished from her mind. She suddenly knew exactly how the rabbits in Lothering felt when Boy used to stalk them.

All right, perhaps the rabbits hadn’t found it quite as arousing as she did. 

“You look as if you’re considering pouncing on me.” She commented, proud of how even her voice sounded.

His eyes crinkled as he smiled suddenly. “Something like that, yes.” 

“Are you going to?” She asked with a tilt of her head. 

“Not in the middle of a crowded restaurant, no.”

She was surprised at how disappointed she was. “Oh. You haven’t entirely dismissed the idea though, have you?”

He laughed out loud. “No. Definitely not.” He looked at her and shook his head. “You aren’t easily intimidated are you?”

The expression in her eyes changed, and there was just a hint of sadness in them. “No.” She told him. “Life’s far too short to be intimidated.” 

He reached out and touched her face gently, and had to fight the urge to lean over and kiss her, in spite of the fact they were in a crowded restaurant. Not the way he had wanted to kiss her a moment ago, but lightly, gently; a kiss to let her know that she wasn’t alone. 

She leaned into his touch and gave him a slightly perplexed smile. “How is it possible I’ve know you less than a day?” She asked.

“I don’t know.” He replied, unable to take his eyes from her. 

“You feel it too?” It was barely a question.

“Yes.” Before he could say more his cellphone went off. He reached into his pocket and looked at the number. “Damn.” He murmured under his breath. He gave her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I have to take this.”

She didn’t seem at all bothered. “It’s fine.” She said with an easy smile.

He hit the answer button. “Saemus.”

His assistant sounded positively frantic. “We’ve got a problem, Sebastian. A big one.”

“Tell me.” He pushed back the chair and mouthing “excuse me” to Anabel, left the table and the patio, heading out to the sidewalk in front of the Hanged Man.

“Varnell finally sent over Elthina’s picture.”

Sebastian closed his eyes and exhaled. He’d been expecting this ever since Petrice had somehow convinced Elthina to use Varnell for her official photograph for the Chantry Foundation’s annual brochure, the one that was sent out to all the donors and potential donors. “How bad?”

Saemus didn’t answer the question, just said. “I’m sending it now.”

Sebastian pulled back his phone and tapped on the image to enlarge it. He couldn’t keep from cursing. It looked like the sort of photograph you’d find inside a strip mall insurance company for employee of the month. All right, perhaps it wasn’t quite that bad, but it was nowhere near the caliber he needed for the brochure. He put the phone back to his ear. “What do we have from last year’s photo shoot.”

“We can’t use those, Elthina’s cut her hair since then. Anyone who’s seen her in the last six months would know it wasn’t a current picture. It’s due at the printer’s tomorrow morning, Sebastian.”

He knew that. There was no point in having Varnell retake the picture. He suspected the man had procrastinated in sending the photograph over because he knew they wouldn't be able to find anyone else and they'd be forced to use it, in spite of the poor quality of the photograph. “What about the photographer we used last time?” He asked Saemus.

“He’s still not speaking to us for using Varnell this year. I tried. He just laughed and hung up. I got some other names as well and tried them. Either they aren’t willing to clean up after Varnell, or they aren’t willing to risk their reputations given the time limitations we're forcing on them.”

Sebastian couldn’t help a small snort. “What, you mean less than twelve hours to produce a photograph that will be seen and judged throughout the whole of the Free Marches?” He asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. He turned and looked back at the patio. Anabel was sitting there looking out at the view.

“Exactly.” Saemus agreed. “That sort of pressure’s enough to intimidate almost anyone.”

Anabel turned and saw him looking at her and smiled at him.

_Life’s far too short to be intimidated._

“I think I know someone who can do it.” Sebastian told Saemus. “I’ll call you right back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [A Happy Accident photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/a+happy+accident)


	6. A Kiss in an Elevator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anabel accepts Sebastian's offer of a job. He meets some more of her roommates and they head up to Hightown together.

She’d agreed to his request without even hesitating. When he’d tried to tell her what it paid she’d brushed it aside, saying she was happy to help him out. Once he’d paid the check, they headed to her apartment to pick up her camera and equipment. 

She pulled her keys out of her pocket when they reached the outer door. “I should probably warn you. My roommates are a bit of an eccentric bunch.” She said as she unlocked the door and pushed it open.

“I’m late. I’m so late!” A small woman, only slightly bigger than Anabel herself was tearing down the stairs.

“Varric’s covering the podium, it’s okay. This is Sebastian.”

The girl was nearly halfway down the stairs and barely glanced at them. “It’s lovely to meet you! I’m so late!” She pushed between the two of them and ran out the door, letting it slam behind her. They could still hear her shouting she was late.

“That was Merrill.” Annie explained. “She’s late, apparently.”

He couldn’t help smiling. “I had heard that. She works at the Hanged Man as well?” 

“Yes, more regularly than I do. Isabela’s the only one who works full time though, at least in theory.” 

“In theory?” He asked.

“She’s been known to take off for days at a time with not a lot of warning. She once left for almost a month.” 

“And Mr. Tethras doesn’t mind?”

“Varric? No. Isabela brings in a lot of money and customers when she works. She’s something of a legend at the Hanged Man; it wouldn’t be the same without her. Varric’s realizes it. He’s very clever about things like that. And he’s got his urchins who can fill in when she has a bout of wanderlust.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. He’d always been intrigued by Varric Tethras when they’d run across each other at various business gatherings, but he was beginning to suspect that the man’s interests were far more diverse than he had realized and that they encompassed not just grand schemes but single individuals as well. “He has urchins?”

“Oh yes. A whole roster of starving artists and university students desperate for money, who are more than happy to fill in at a moment’s notice. He calls them his urchins.”

She had started walking up the stairs as she spoke and Sebastian followed. The entrance would have been gloomy but someone had painted it a clean crisp white. There was a collection of bicycles leaning against the wall, and the lighting fixture seemed to be a converted Dalish lantern. They heard a door open and then slam shut and a man shouting. “Listen to me you petty, vindictive bitch, there is no way I’m agreeing to that. We fucking bought that place together. It’s doubled in value since we did and there’s no fucking way I’m accepting half of the purchase price as my fair share.” As they reached the landing Sebastian recognized the doctor from the Warden clinic. “You may have convinced your lawyer and the judge that you were the woman wronged, but you and I both fucking know better.”

“Who’s he talking to?” Asked Sebastian.

She was looking at Anders with a vaguely worried frown. “I’d guess evil Velanna.” 

His lips twitched at the name. “Evil Velanna?”

“Anders’ ex-wife.” She explained.

“Anders was married?” Sebastian couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice. He hadn’t seemed the type somehow.

“Yes, when they were both in medical school back in Fereldan. One of those passionate sweep you off your feet whirlwind things that sound so romantic but never seem to work out in the end. They started fighting before the ink in the wedding registry was dry as they say, and then she stole the chief resident position out from under him by starting all sorts of outrageous rumors. And she made him get rid of his cat when they moved in together.” It sounded as if she was placing equal importance on both transgressions.

“You fucking made me get rid of my cat!” Anders shouted into the phone.

Annie gave Sebastian a knowing look. “He’s very bitter about it.” She explained as they reached the upper landing. 

Anders was stalking back and forth in front of the door wearing just a pair of ratty grey sweatpants. He looked up as they came to the landing, saw Sebastian and scowled. 

Annie reached out and pulled down the hand holding the phone. “Anders, baby, come back to bed. I’m so lonely.” She said in a breathy little girl voice.

Anders jerked his arm back and held the phone against his chest. “Will you stop that? I came out here because Isabela was doing the same thing. I know you both think it’s hilarious, but trust me, it doesn’t help.” There was a squawk from the phone that they could hear even with it muffled against his chest. He put the phone back to his ear. “Yes, I’m still here. That was just Annie. Annie. My roommate, Annie. Maker’s tits, Velanna, you know who Annie is, she’s been my roommate for three years now. Yes, just my roommate. Why was she making it sound like she was in my bed?’ He gave Annie an exasperated look. “Because she thinks she’s funny.” There was a pause. “No I I’m not sleeping with her, but you know what Vee? If I wanted to I could sleep with her and fifteen others as well, because we’re divorced, remember? You fucking walked out the door.” He pushed past Sebastian and started down the stairs, still arguing.

“They’ll go on like that for a while.” Annie told Sebastian, pushing open the door to the apartment. “Do you like dogs?”

Before he could answer, what must easily have been one hundred and fifty pounds of dog flung itself towards them barking loudly.

“Boy, stop!” Annie commanded, not even raising her voice and much to Sebastian’s surprise the dog skidded to a halt in front of them. “Good Boy!” She said reaching out and scratching him behind his ears. He was such a large dog she didn’t even have to bend down. She looked up at Sebastian with a smile. “This is Boy. He’s Carver’s dog, but he loves all of us, don’t you baby?”

The dog barked once and smiled. There was no other word for it. Sebastian held at his hand for the dog to sniff, and when it nudged his hand he scratched the top of his head. Having greeted them both he turned and went back down the hallway and disappeared into one of the rooms. He seemed to be trailing a ball of yarn behind him that was tangled in his tail.

Annie led Sebastian through to a large living room. Several bookshelves of various sizes and finishes, all filled to overflowing, lined the walls. There were two couches of entirely different styles and fabrics, several armchairs, again in different styles and patterns, and a collection of end tables. The walls were crowded with pictures and quite a few paintings as well. It was bright and colorful and had a certain energy in spite of or perhaps because of the clashing styles. Sebastian turned to find Annie watching him with a smile. 

“The word you’re looking for is ‘eclectic’.” She informed him.

“Excuse me?” 

“Our decorating style. Eclectic. It’s another word for ‘we all had different furniture and no one wanted to give theirs up so we just threw it all together’.” She scooped several skeins of yarn and an odd assortment of knitting needles off the couch and dumped them on the carved wooden chest that seem to serve as a coffee table. It looked Rivaini. There were actually quite a few pieces that were Rivaini, he realized. “Who is it who likes Rivaini things?” He asked.

“Oh that’s Isabela. She is Rivaini actually.”

“And the knitting?”

“Merrill’s taken it up. She likes to wander around as she knits so it ends up everywhere. Varric says if we ever need to find her all we’ll have to do is follow the yarn. Have a seat and I’ll get my camera and such.” 

“And the books?” He’d only glanced at the titles but the collection seemed as eclectic as the furniture.

“Oh all of us. Well, mostly me. I’ve been told I have a problem.” She admitted.

“A problem?”

“I’m addicted so they tell me. It’s been said I can’t pass a book store or stand without buying something.”

He smiled. “And is that true?”

She seemed to hesitate. “No?”

“That’s not terribly convincing, you know.”

She laughed. “Well, I’d have to say I almost always stop and browse. I don’t always buy. Often, but not always.” She frowned as if she didn’t quite believe it.

“Give me a percentage.” He asked.

The frown deepened causing a small wrinkle between her brows that he actually had to restrain himself to keep from kissing. “Sixty-five percent? No, more than that. Eighty?” She thought about it. “Eighty-five percent of the time I buy. Twenty percent of the time I don’t. And fifteen percent of the time I come back later in the day and buy the books I put back."

“You do realize that adds up to up to one hundred and twenty percent.”

“No. Does it?” She looked surprised and then laughed. “I suppose that would explain all the books around here.” 

A voluptuous, dark-haired woman wearing only a cut off Hanged Man t-shirt and red bikini underpants wandered in, holding a large cup of coffee. She had long tangled dark hair, large dark eyes, and a lip piercing. She paused when she saw them.

“Maker’s sake woman, put some pants on.” Annie told her.

“It’s far too early for pants, Kitten.” The woman said. She took a sip of her coffee, giving Sebastian an appraising look. “He’s rather yummy isn’t he? And bringing him back to the flat already? That’s fast work.” She said with a smile that tottered precariously towards lewd. “I approve.” 

Annie rolled her eyes. “Or we could just be picking up my stuff and heading out again.” She suggested.

“Boring.” Isabela commented.

“This is Isabela.” Annie told Sebastian, with a fond grin at the woman. “She’s a horrible influence. She cheats at cards. She finishes the milk and puts the empty carton back in the refrigerator. She has no understanding of personal boundaries whatsoever, and delights in making people squirm. I tell you this because I’m going to leave you here with her for a few minutes while I get my bag. Don’t lend her money. Don’t let her intimidate you. And under no circumstances should you ask her to explain what an Antivan Milk Sandwich is. Isabela this is Sebastian. Be nice.”

Isabela didn’t take her eyes from Sebastian. “Kitten, I’m always nice.” 

Annie gave a disbelieving snort as she left the room.

Isabela continued to stare at him for a few moments before giving him a knowing smile. “I don’t need to explain to you what an Antivan Milk Sandwich is, do I?” She asked.

“No.” He said simply with an answering smile.

“Mmm. I suspected not.” She seemed to be back to appraising him.

“Anabel tells me you’re from Rivain, originally.” He finally said.

“Yes, about a hundred years ago.” She said noncommittally. She leaned against the arm of one of the sofas and took a sip of her coffee, still watching him. “You’re older than I thought you’d be.” She said finally.

He wasn’t certain what to say to that. “Oh?” For the first time he find himself wondering just what Anabel had told her friends about him.

“That’s not a bad thing.” Isabela said, almost to herself. “Annie’s an old soul in a lot of ways. Of course she’s a complete innocent in others.”

She couldn’t mean…no, not in this day and age. Sebastian dismissed the thought almost immediately. “We’ve only just met, but she seems remarkable.”

Isabela gave a satisfied nod. “Good. You see it too. I thought you might when you sent those flowers.”

“Surely someone sending her flowers can’t be such a rare occurrence?” Anabel had said something last night about never having been sent flowers but he’d thought it had been the pain pills talking.

Isabela just shrugged. “It hasn’t happened as long as I’ve been here and that’s more than two years. It wasn’t just that you sent flowers, though: it was the kind of flowers you sent.”

He tried to figure out what she was getting at. “I think roses are fairly standard in situations such as this.”

Isabela gave a dismissive snort. “Anyone can dial a florist and have a dozen red roses delivered.” 

“And that isn’t what I did?” He asked.

She gave him that same catlike smile. “You know it isn’t. You picked pink and peach roses that perfectly matched her coloring, three dozen of them, ordered from the most exclusive florist in Kirkwall and managed to have them delivered to Lowtown on a Saturday night within hours of meeting her. You included an effortlessly charming and self-deprecating hand written note.” At his rather pointed look her mouth curved into a small smile. “I may have peeked.” She admitted. “My point is there was effort there, and some thought. I approve. Life’s knocked Annie about quite a bit. She deserves someone who’ll treat her well.”

“I intend to.” Sebastian said evenly. “But not because anyone tells me to.” 

Her smile deepened. “Good for you.” She said, seeming pleased with his answer. She got to her feet and started to leave the room, pausing when she reached the door to look back at him. “Just so you know though, if you do anything nasty to her I’ll cut off your balls and feed them to you on a skewer.” She looked past him and smiled at Annie who was just walking into the room. “You two have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She called over her shoulder.

“That list’s still on the fridge, right?” Annie called after her. She turned back to Sebastian. “What did you think? Quite a character, isn’t she?”

To put it mildly. “Quite a character.” He agreed.

Annie frowned. “She didn’t say anything untoward did she?” 

Sebastian thought of Isabela’s parting statement. Untoward wasn’t quite the right word for it perhaps. “Not at all.” He assured her. “She was charming.”

She burst out laughing. “Maker. What on Thedas did she say to you?” She asked with a slightly worried glance down the hallway. “I’m sorry. My friends seem to think I need a babysitter or a chaperone. I don’t think they’ve quite decided which. I don’t know why. I don’t even date that often. Of course the dates I have had have tended towards the disastrous.”

That probably explained their protectiveness, Sebastian thought. And there was something strangely vulnerable about Anabel Hawke in spite of her good nature and her laughter. He couldn’t blame them for wanting to keep her safe. He hadn’t even known her for twenty-four hours and he felt much the same. “There’s nothing to apologize for.” He told her. He still didn’t understand this hold she gained on him so quickly. 

She had her camera bag with her, but he realized she was holding it by its strap instead of carrying it over her shoulder. He mentally chastised himself for completely forgetting about her injury. “Let me take that for you.” He said, crossing the room and reaching for it.

She started to say no and then stopped herself. “Thank you.” Truth was her side was aching right now, more than it had been when she woke up. She’d taken some more Tylenol, but part of her wished she could take the ones with the codeine. 

She glanced up to find him watching her carefully. “I’m either making progress, or you’re hurting; you didn’t even argue this time.” He said taking the bag from her. “Which is it?

“A bit of both I think.” She admitted.

He frowned. “Anabel if you aren’t feeling up to this tell me. Yes, I’d like to have a different photo for the brochure, but not at the price of your being in pain. He reached down to tuck a stray curl behind her ear and couldn’t help running his finger along her cheek. 

Her skin felt like velvet.

“No, you were desperate enough to hire me, so I know you need it. I just took some Tylenol. That’ll get me through. You don’t need to worry. I’m stubborn.” She informed him. “But contrary to popular opinion, I’m not entirely without sense.” She looked up at him with laughing eyes. 

And whatever he had been going to say vanished from his mind completely and he could only stare at her. Besotted. He thought. That was the word for it. Thirty-four years old and absolutely besotted by a girl of twenty-two, who barely came to his shoulder. His fingers were still tingling just from touching her cheek, and his heart seemed to be beating just a little too emphatically. 

She took his breath away. 

He stepped closer to her. “You are quite the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen, Anabel Hawke.” He told her. 

Her cheeks turned pink. “No.” She said, with a small shake of her head. Her heart had started pounding, just from the look in his eyes.

“Oh yes.” He said softly. He put the bag on the ground and took a step closer, putting his hand beneath her chin and gently tilting her face up and examining her carefully.

She was flawless. Even those few freckles just called attention to the delicate bone structure and that perfect almost ethereal white skin. Lips shouldn’t be that naturally red and it shouldn’t be possible for eyes to be dark turquoise or emerald green, let alone both at the same time. And how was it possible for her hair to be so many shades of red at once and yet her brows and lashes so deep a brown they almost seemed black? 

He raised his eyes to hers and she couldn’t help a nervous laugh. “You look as though you’re thinking of pouncing again.” She told him.

A smile curved his mouth. “Yes.” He said simply.

She swallowed nervously. “We’re not in a crowded restaurant anymore.” _Brilliant pointing out of the obvious, Annie_ , she thought giving herself a mental smack on the forehead.

He started to bend towards her. “No, we’re not.” He agreed, his mouth inches from her own. 

The door the apartment slammed shut with a loud bang and Anders came stalking into the room. He scowled when he saw the two of them realizing in an instant what he’d interrupted. 

Annie couldn’t help the blush that stained her cheeks even as Sebastian straightened up and she took a step back from him. “So how’s evil Velanna?”

“Marvelous.” Anders said dryly.

Sebastian wondered if the man would be considerate enough to give them some privacy, but he couldn’t say he was surprised when instead Anders flung himself on one of the couches. “She sends her love.” He frowned when he saw her camera bag. “Are you working this afternoon?” He asked.

“Sebastian’s having a photo emergency for some brochure that needs to get to the printer tomorrow morning. Just a portrait that needs to be reshot.” She told him as Sebastian picked up the bag again.

Anders frowned. “A brochure?” He asked.

“For the Foundation’s annual appeal.” Sebastian told him, wondering why he felt the need to explain it to him.

Anders eyes went immediately to Annie. “You’re being paid for this?”

Sebastian said “yes”, and Annie said “no” at exactly the same time.

“I told you I’m happy to do it.” She said with a frown.

“And I told you you’d be paid for it.”

“Does she get a photo credit?” Anders interrupted.

“Of course.” 

Anders was frowning. “Who’ll hold the copyright on the picture? If you go into a second printing will she be paid accordingly?”

“The Foundation will, and yes.” Sebastian told himself the man was just looking out for his friend, but a part of him couldn’t help being irritated that Anders was assuming he would take advantage of her.

Anders turned back to Annie. “Don’t do anything without signing a contract, and for the Maker’s sake don’t sign a contract without reading it and if you don’t understand something email the thing to me and I’ll look it over.”

She brushed aside his concerns. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She moved towards the door and Sebastian followed. “See you later.”

“I’m serious Annie!” Anders called after her. “I’m keeping my phone with me. Text me if there are any problems.”

“You worry too much, Justice.” She shouted back as she closed the door.

“Justice?” Sebastian asked as they went down the stairs. They reached the bottom and he pushed open the door.

“It’s a nickname. Anders was a lawyer before he was a doctor.”

“Was he?” Sebastian couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice.

“For the Chantry Corporation in Ferelden.” She gave him a mischievous look. “He’s not terribly fond of your bosses. He went straight from law school to being an in house counsel for the Circle. Hard to believe it if you see him now, but there are pictures. Short hair and a suit and tie and everything. I suspect he may even have carried a briefcase, though that’s just a rumor at this point.” 

“He doesn’t seem the type to work in insurance. Why did he give it up?”

“He worked for their health insurance division. He had to deal with people who challenged decisions that had been made about their coverage and such – you know, whether to pay for experimental treatments, or take on people who had preexisting conditions. He was told it was his job to keep cases like that from ever going to court, to make it so miserable and drag it out for so long that people got discouraged and gave up.” They were outside now. “Are we getting a taxi?” She asked.

“Yes.” He told her. 

“They’re easier to find near the foundry.” She told him and turned left. “Anyway, it ended up being Anders who got tired and discouraged and honestly, who can blame him. It’s a soul sucking sort of a job I imagine. After a year of slogging through it by himself he decided he’d had enough. So he chucked it all. Quit his job and went to medical school. Decided to try and solve the problem of equal access to health care from the ground up.”

“That’s why he works at the clinic.” It made some sense in a tilting at windmills sort of way.

“Yes. He’s been butting heads with Meredith Stannard over at the Gallows lately. She doesn’t approve of the free clinics in the city, thinks they need to be ‘regulated’. Anders is convinced it’s just a ploy to get them all closed. The Warden Clinic and some of the others are banding together to keep that from happening.”

Sebastian didn’t care much for Meredith Stannard himself, but he found himself defending her. “I believe she just wants to insure that standards of healthcare are met. There are a lot of charlatans out there.”

“And a lot of corporation that want to simply make a profit.” Annie countered. When he looked at her in surprise she flashed him her dimple. “Da was a doctor who kept running afoul of the powers that be, remember. He passed his rebellious ways on to his children.”

“And where does the name Justice come from?” 

“Every so often Anders will start spouting legalese, listing all the laws that are being violated, or laws that he thinks should be challenged because they’re unjust. He positively seethes with righteousness at times; you can almost see it swirling around him. We like to tease him about it. Somehow the name Justice stuck. He’s become the defacto leader of the various unaffiliated health clinics in Kirkwall, probably because of Justice. So it’s all worked out in a strange way. Or it will hopefully.”

“And his ex-wife? Is she a lawyer as well?”

“Velanna? No, they met at medical school in Amaranthine. She’s got a cushy job as a liaison for a pharmaceutical company now, and testifies for the Chantry Corporation as a medical expert when a case actually goes to court. Anders says she does it just to piss him off.”

“You don’t agree?” He asked.

“I think the pissing Anders off is just a bonus. She’s a bit mercenary. I think she mostly does it because it makes her a lot of money.” She changed the subject. “So tell me who I’m photographing.” 

“Elthina Chantry.” He told her.

“One of the Chantry’s?” She asked in surprise. “Goodness. I am hobnobbing with the elite of Kirkwall lately.” One of the Chantry’s of Kirkwall. She offered a silent prayer that she not screw this up. Elthina Chantry. The name sounded familiar and she stopped in her tracks as she realized why. “Wait a minute. Did you say Elthina Chantry? As in Elthina Chantry, the woman who runs the Chantry Corporation.”

“Yes.” 

She just blinked at him. “You want me to take the picture of the CEO of the largest corporation in the Free Marches for the annual brochure.

“I do.”

“You must be insane. Why on Thedas would you hire me for this?” There was an underlying thread of panic to the question.

“For one, I’m working on a deadline and quite desperate.”

“You’d have to be.” She muttered. At least he was being honest. ”Please tell me you have another reason.”

“I do. I’ve seen your work and I know you’re more than capable of doing the job.” 

“Just like that?”

“Yes.”

She was giving him a highly suspicious look. “Is the photo you have truly that bad?” She asked. “I mean this isn’t all an elaborate ploy to get into my pants or anything, is it? Because honestly, barring some strange and alarming issues with personal hygiene, your odds were pretty good in that regard even before you offered me this job.” Her eyes went round. She’d actually said that out loud. She clapped her hands over her mouth before she could say anything worse.

Sebastian started laughing, laughing so loudly that people actually turned and stared. “No.” He told her when he could finally speak again. “As appealing as the idea of ‘getting into your pants’ is, I would never use my position to accomplish it. The reasons I’m offering you the work are the ones I gave you.” He took his phone out of his pocket, found the picture Saemus had sent and passed it to her.

She looked at it for a few seconds and handed it back. “All right. I believe the desperate part now.” A wrinkled creased her brow. “You truly think I’m good enough for this?” She asked as he scanned the streets for a taxicab. 

He stopped and looked down at her. “Yes. I truly do.” He said sincerely. “You're very talented. You see to the heart of people in your photographs. You have a gift.”

She regarded him solemnly for a few seconds and then smiled suddenly. “Okay.” 

He couldn’t help teasing her. “I’ll have to rely on my own personal charms for the getting into your pants thing.”

Her cheeks turned pink but she couldn’t help laughing. “I can’t believe I actually said that. I’m an appalling girl, even without codeine-laced Tylenol. I can’t imagine what you see in me.”

“For one thing you’re completely unpredictable.” He managed to hail a passing taxi.

“And you think that’s a good thing, do you?” She asked dubiously. 

“It’s quite rare in the circles I tend to frequent.” He said, opening the door for her. 

“That's a little sad. You should hang out with my gang. Most of us are unpredictable, and a little bit crazy. You'd fit right in. I wouldn't have thought it when I met you, but judging from your actions since then, you’re obviously a bit mad yourself.” She informed him as she carefully eased herself into the back seat.

He shut the door and walked around to get in on the other side. “On the contrary. My decisions of late have never made more sense.” 

“Picking up strange women on the Wounded Coast and offering them brunch and employment? That’s working out for you, is it?”

“Yes.” He said, smiling at her in a way that almost made her dizzy.

_Maker that shouldn’t be legal, having a smile like that._

“One Chantry Plaza.” He told the driver before turning back to her. “We’ll stop by my office first if that’s all right.”

Office. Work. Yes. She had a job to do, one that she couldn’t screw up for a number of reasons. She forced herself to focus on that. “Is it possible for me to see the brochure before taking the picture? Is there a mock-up or something? I’d like to see what the whole looks like if I could, to make sure the picture will work with the rest of it.” 

Something Varnell hadn’t bothered with. “Of course.” 

“Tell me about Mrs. Chantry.”

“She’s the head of the Chantry Corporation. She has been for close to forty years now, since the death of her husband. She’s expanded it far beyond what it was then. It’s she who established the Chantry Foundation almost thirty years ago.” He was about to elaborate on the work the Foundation did when Anabel interrupted.

“No. Not about the business. Tell me about the woman. What’s she like? Is she scary? Friendly? Easy to work with? A raging harpy? What does she enjoy? What drives her absolutely crazy?”

He thought understood what she was trying to find out. “She’s a wonderful woman. Warm. Generous. Not scary in the slightest. She puts everyone at ease. She’s very friendly, though she’s not a gregarious person. She doesn’t micromanage or interfere with the day to day operations of the various divisions of the company and if she does have concerns she broaches them in such a way that makes it clear she wants only to help. It makes her very easy to work with. She’s approachable. Even someone working in the mailroom wouldn’t hesitate to speak to her if they saw her.”

“She sounds rather wonderful.” Annie said. It certainly gave a different picture of the Chantry Corporation than Anders always went on about. “What does she do for fun?”

“She enjoys her garden and her friends. She’s going to be retiring be in a few years and she’s delegating more of her work to others and focusing her time more on the areas of the business that she truly enjoys, such as the Foundation. 

“What does she dislike?”

“People who try and butter her up, complimenting her or fawning over her in any way. She’s a no nonsense sort of person, but not brusque at all. She’s one of the kindest people I know.” He looked over to find Anabel smiling at him.

“You love her.” She said simply.

He found himself smiling back, surprised it had been so obvious. “I do.”

“She’s one of those surrogate parents you mentioned at brunch?” 

“She is.” He said. “She’s actually my Godmother as well.” 

“Let me see that picture again.” She said, holding out her hand.

He dutifully passed her the phone. She looked carefully at the picture in silence for another minute. “She doesn’t enjoy being photographed.” She didn’t offer it as a question.

He couldn’t help wondering how she knew. “No, not especially. At least not formal pictures.”

“Mmm.” She handed him back his phone. She caught her lower lip between her teeth chewing on it. Her hands were folded in her lap but he noticed she was tapping one finger rapidly against the knuckles of the other hand. It wasn’t a nervous habit, he realized. She was thinking. 

“Where is the photo being taken?” She asked abruptly.

“In her office.” 

The tapping stopped for just a second. “What does it look like?” She asked. 

“Her office? Elegant, mostly white, the room is modern but the furnishings are antique. It overlooks Hightown and the old Chantry building.

“Big windows?” She asked picturing the Chantry headquarters.

“Floor to ceiling yes.”

“What direction does it face?”

He had to stop and think. “Southwest I believe.” 

The tapping resumed. He waited, more curious than ever. She had the same expression of concentration on her face as when she’d been sorting through her photographs in the car yesterday. You could almost see the wheels spinning.

She only half noticed that the taxi had arrived in Hightown and was making its way towards Chantry Plaza. It was far from an ideal job. A subject she’d never met, who disliked being photographed, being photographed in an all-white office just when the afternoon sun would be streaming into the room. A picture that needed to be perfect the first time with no chance for a reshoot. 

A picture that could give her the proverbial foot in the door in Kirkwall if she could manage to pull it off.

The odds were stacked against her though. She turned to Sebastian. “Is the location set in stone?”

“I don’t think it has to be.” With most photographers, under this sort of deadline he would have said yes. For some reason he was willing to give her more leeway. Perhaps it was just that he wanted to see what she would do with it. “Do you have another idea?”

“Could we take the pictures at her home, do you think?”

Elthina valued her privacy. Few were ever invited into her home. Even the social events she held usually took place at a hired venue. “Why her home?” He asked.

“She might feel more at ease there. We could take the picture in her study or her garden. And the background might make the picture less stiff and formal: not the CEO of a conglomerate asking for donations, but the woman who started the Foundation to help the causes nearest and dearest to her inviting the donors and prospective donors to join her in aiding those causes. Making them feel more like partners. More involved.” She looked over to see what he thought.

Sebastian couldn’t keep the surprise from his face. He didn’t say anything. 

She’d surprised him yet again. She was beautiful, charming, unpredictable, and intelligent, he’d realized all that yesterday but it was only today, hearing that she was the one who’d convinced Varric Tethras to renovate a dingy bar in Lowtown turning into a vibrant and trendy dining spot, or design an eye-catching t-shirt to publicize that same bar, and now this. She seemed to have clarity of vision that let her see straight to the heart of a thing, see it and find a solution for it even when you hadn’t quite realized there was a problem there. 

How many brochures and annual reports had he seen with the ubiquitous letter from the founder/president/CEO, with that same carefully posed photograph, at a desk, hands folded in front, carefully positioned for that ¾ headshot?

This photograph would be personal. If it was done right it would be a glimpse into Elthina’s world. No, not a glimpse: an invitation. 

Could he convince Elthina to let them photograph in her home? Yes, he thought so. 

Was Anabel capable of delivering a photograph with that impact? He thought of the pictures he’d seen yesterday. Oh, yes. 

Annie gave a nervous laugh. “Or we can just take the picture in the office as planned. I can do that too.”

It was only then he realized he hadn't spoken. "No, it’s brilliant." He said simply.

She had a tentative smile on her face. “Do you think so?”

“I do. You continue to surprise me Anabel Hawke.” He told her as the taxi pulled up in front of the Chantry headquarters. 

 

Less than half an hour later they were outside the building again heading to Elthina’s apartment. Annie had looked at the mock-up of the brochure while he'd called Elthina from his office and arranged their visit. When he’d returned to the conference room he’d found Annie had already signed the contract. 

Just like that. “You did read it, didn’t you?” He’d asked, just to make certain.

She’d shrugged. “More or less.” She’d told him and then had tried to hide a smile when Saemus had laughed, a laugh he’d quickly turned into a cough.

He suddenly understood Anders’ concerns. “Never sign anything without reading it.” He told her.

“I trust you.” She said looking up at him with an easy smile.

He suspected she trusted everyone. No wonder her roommates kept such a close watch on her. He hadn’t even read the contract himself. He knew it was the standard one they used for such things, but he’d never actually gone through it. He’d rectified that situation immediately and found to his relief there wasn’t anything objectionable. He’d looked up at her when he’d finished. “Did you even look to see what you’d be paid for this?” 

She’d given him a small frown. “Was that in there?” 

“Maker protect you from yourself Anabel Hawke.” He’d muttered, handing the contract to Saemus. “Make her a copy of this would you? And see if there’s someone here who can cut a check. I’ll sign it. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

“So how do you know Saemus?” He asked as they walked along the tree lined street. It had been a surprise when they’d recognized each other.

“Oh we met at a club once and then kept running into each other.” She said noncommittally. Saemus’ wide-eyed alarm when she’d started to ask about Ashaad had let her know that he wasn’t “out” to the people he worked with. “I’d no idea he was your assistant.”

“Our families are friends. He’s good at his job though. He wants to make a difference.” The boy needed more confidence Sebastian thought, not for the first time. He wondered when the boy would feel comfortable enough with him to tell him he was gay. Anabel obviously knew, if Saemus’ poorly concealed panic when he’d seen her was any indication.

He stopped in front of an elegant building that dated back to the start of the last century. 

The doorman snapped to attention when he saw Sebastian. “Mrs. Chantry is expecting you, your Highness.” 

They waited for the elevator in silence standing side by side, but Annie couldn’t help stealing surreptitious glances at him. 

She could spend several hours just looking at him, for purely esthetic reasons, she thought. He wasn’t just handsome; his looks went far beyond that. He was beautiful, but in an utterly masculine way. There was nothing girlish or pretty at all him. Only those vivid blue eyes, fringed by thick dark lashes came close, but they were balanced out by the strong jaw, and the cheekbones and that magnificent Vael nose. She’d read up on his family this morning online and she’d been right about that nose being the product of hundreds of years of selective breeding. She’d seen portrait after portrait of Starkhaven royalty going back centuries that boasted that same nose. 

None of them carried it quite as well as Sebastian did though.

The elevator arrived and they both stepped in. Sebastian pressed the button for the penthouse and stepped back as the doors closed. She stood on the opposite side. She pretended to herself that it wasn’t so she could continue to stare at him. 

Then there was his mouth. As she’d noticed yesterday, it was just perfect. Full but not fleshy. Unlike her own ridiculous mouth, his upper and lower lips were perfectly balanced. And that little indention above his upper lip. Perfect. _Sculpted_. The word kept popping into her head. He had a perfectly sculpted mouth. She wanted to reach out and touch it, just run her index finger lightly over that flawless upper lip and then follow that by running the tip of her tongue along it.

Her heart was beating more quickly and she realized her breath was coming a little faster.

 _Sweet Andraste._ She was getting excited, actually sexually excited, aroused, just from looking at his lips. She looked down in confusion. That didn’t happen to normal people, did it? She looked back up and realized those lips were curving into a smile. 

She immediately looked at the ground again. _Shit_. How long had he been watching her watching him and just how obvious had she been? Did he know what she was feeling? That she was… Could people tell that just from looking at you? She raised her eyes to check. 

The smile was still in place but there was a heat in his eyes now that hadn’t been there before, and suddenly breathing at all was difficult. She ran her tongue nervously over her lips and his eyes went straight to them.

The smile disappeared and his eyes flashed up to meet hers again and she realized several things at once:

He knew exactly what she was feeling.

He was just as turned on as she was. 

It was really a very small elevator. 

She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away, but neither could he, and suddenly she knew what was going to happen with absolute certainty. A slow pleased smile curved her lips. 

He was going to pounce. _Finally_.

She had a split second to anticipate it and then they both moved at the same time.

His hand curved around the side of her neck, tilting her face up. Her hand tangled in the front of his shirt and she went up on her toes. Their mouths met and it was...

 _Perfect_.

 _Dear Maker_ , Sebastian thought as he fought for control. The feel of her beneath his hand, small and soft and so utterly right. He tightened his hold on her neck and deepened the kiss, and kissed her the way he’d wanted to since he gotten his first good look at those lush red lips, and how was it possible that it had only been yesterday?

Anabel seemed to almost melt against him, meeting every caress, holding absolutely nothing back, reaching out and sliding her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer still, nibbling and tasting as if she’d been starved for the taste and the feel of him. 

He started to slide his hand around her waist, only remembering her injury at the last minute. Her hand brushed against his and their fingers intertwined and still not breaking the kiss he moved her slowly back so she was pressed against the elevator wall, and he was pressed against her. He brought the hand he held up to rest beside her head, so she was pinned there, his one hand by her head, his other at her neck and he could take his time kissing her and tasting her. He moved his mouth to the fine line of her jaw and then to her throat, feeling her pulse pounding against his lips. He ran his tongue along it, and she let out a soft sound, half cry and half moan and for one insane moment he considered lifting her skirts and taking her right there.

What in Andraste’s name was happening to him? He pulled his head back so he could see her face; she looked as dazed as he felt. He couldn’t resist leaning down and kissing her again, this time sliding his hands into those glorious curls and taking his time, drawing out each kiss, each brush of his lips against hers, each caress of his tongue and she followed his lead and the kisses become something languorous and unhurried.

When had kisses ever felt like this? He wondered as he continued to kiss her, seemingly unable to stop.

Neither of them heard the elevator ding or the doors slide open. 

“Goodness.”

They came apart slowly as if they were coming awake and Sebastian turned to see who had spoken. 

Elthina was standing there, looking startled, yes, but also as if she were trying not to laugh and suddenly Sebastian was smiling as well, even as he reluctantly released his hold on Anabel and stepped back from her. He looked down and when she met his eye she started laughing that rich throaty laugh and he couldn’t help laughing as well.

He was happy. When was the last time he’d laughed out of sheer happiness? He looked down at Anabel: her cheeks were flushed, her mouth red and swollen from his kisses, the blue and green of her eyes even more vivid and he didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so beautiful.

She was looking up at him with the same bemused wonder he was feeling.

He was thirty-four years old, experienced, cynical and jaded where love was concerned. He wouldn’t claim to be celibate but he hadn’t been in anything approaching a relationship for years. He wasn’t supposed to be swept off his feet. Whirlwind romances and instant attraction and love at first sight were fictions to justify acting on a basic sexual attraction.

He knew that. 

And he knew with one hundred percent certainty that this was far more than that. 

One day. He’d only known her for one day, and he knew that his life was never going to be the same.

He reached down and took her hand and turned back to Elthina. “Elthina Chantry, might I introduce, Miss Anabel Hawke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [A Happy Accident photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/a+happy+accident)


	7. Rooftop Gardens and Ice Cream Cones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie photographs Elthina in her rooftop garden.

“Prince Sebastian is on his way up, Mrs. Chantry.” 

“Thank you George.” Elthina hung up the phone and walked through her apartment towards the elevator to meet Sebastian and whomever this photographer he’d found was. She was already harboring regrets about agreeing to being photographed in her home. She’d always had very definite rules about privacy, and about keeping work and home separate, but Sebastian had been so excited, so enthusiastic about the idea that she had found herself agreeing before she’d truly thought it through.

How long had it been since Sebastian had been that enthusiastic about anything? Oh, he was happy enough she knew, content where he was, he found pleasure and satisfaction in doing his job well, and since he’d taken over running it, had expanded the scope of the Foundation far beyond what she had ever dreamed. But enthusiastic? No.

He was far too staid and proper for a man his age. She told him that frequently. She knew it was a response to his younger, wilder days, and to having his parents constantly tell what a disgrace and disappointment he was to the Vael name.

She’d never understood the way Corbinian and Katriona treated the boy. Fifteen years younger than his nearest brother, it was obvious his arrival had been unplanned, but instead of welcoming him as the blessing he was, the Prince and Princess had always seemed more embarrassed by the fact that in their forties they’d suddenly produced another child. Perhaps they might have treated him differently if he’d been the girl the Princess had always wanted, but he hadn’t been, and as far as they were concerned a third boy was unnecessary and merely complicated the line of succession. But what Elthina had found truly unforgivable was that they’d never bothered to conceal these feelings from Sebastian, not even when he was a small boy. Thank the Maker that his grandfather Lachlan had been there for him, to give him all the love and affection and guidance that his parents didn’t.

It was only after Lachlan had passed away when Sebastian was fourteen, that he had begun to get a bit wild, staying out until all hours, drinking far too much (even before he was legally of an age to do so), and then there were the women – models, actresses, socialites. The out of control escapades of a prince would have been enough to garner the attention of the press, but add his wealth and his extraordinary good looks and charm to the mix and the paparazzi had descended on him like locusts. Things hadn’t improved when he’d started attending the University of Starkhaven; in fact they’d gotten much, much worse. There had been wild parties, weekends jetting off to Orlais, or Antiva with a planeload of hangers-on and more than one narrowly averted international incident. Sebastian had barely attended classes and his grades had suffered, to the point where Elthina suspected it had only been the title of ‘Prince of Starkhaven’ that had prevented him from being ignominiously expelled. 

All that had changed abruptly after one particularly tawdry episode, in which the girl claimed to be underage and pregnant (though neither turned out to be true), and rumors of a sex tape were running rampant (though none ever surfaced). Sebastian had turned up on Elthina’s doorstep early one evening shortly after that, looking as lost and bedraggled as a stray puppy, and with a weariness in his eyes that would have been upsetting in a man twice his age. They’d stayed up late into the night, talking, drinking countless pots of tea, and eventually coming up with a plan to set him back on track. On her advice he had transferred to Kirkwall University. He had moved in with her for the first year, but then found his own place, and had buckled down and actually finished his undergraduate degree early. He’d surprised most of Thedas by renouncing his place in the Starkhaven succession and had then gone on to earn simultaneous law and business degrees. Elthina had been so proud of him. She’d given him his choice of jobs in the Chantry Corporation and to her great delight he had picked the Foundation. _I want to make a difference_ he’d told her. _I want to have a purpose. I want the work I spend my life doing to mean something_. By the time he was thirty she’d appointed him the Foundation’s Executive Director and he had never given her cause to regret the decision. 

But lately she’d begun to worry about him again. She feared he’d slipped into a role, a comfortable part that he could play effortlessly. He ran the Foundation like a well-oiled machine, was liked and respected by everyone he had dealings with, but he didn’t seem excited by any of it. 

And he wasn’t any more enthusiastic about the women he escorted to the various events he attended; an interchangeable cast of Hightown ladies, most of them, occasionally actresses or models, but only if their reputations were unblemished, without a hint of scandal attached. His associations with these women seldom lasted longer than a month or two. He’d never brought anyone over to see her and the only time she’d ever met one of them was a cursory introduction if he brought them to one of the Foundation's charity events. Elthina didn’t even think she could rightly say he was dating these women, let alone having a relationship with them. Oh, he treated them well enough, but as more of an accessory than a person. Something like the perfectly appropriate tie or pair of cufflinks – something to complete this role he was playing, the way his tie completed his outfit.

Just once, she thought as she crossed to the elevator door in the foyer, just once she’d like to see him swept away by enthusiasm, so caught up in his passions that he acted without thinking.

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open, and there was Sebastian, his back to the door, kissing a woman. His hands were tangled in her long red hair, and he had her backed up against the wall of the elevator. The woman, a tiny little thing, was up on her toes, one hand curled around his neck, the other on his shoulder, pressing herself against him. 

They were both so caught up in the kiss that neither of them had even noticed that the elevator had stopped and the door had opened.

“Goodness.” Well, she had been hoping he’d find some passion hadn’t she? She just hadn’t expected him to find it in her elevator.

Both of them went still at the sound of her voice, and Sebastian broke the kiss, somewhat reluctantly Elthina thought, and turned his head to look at her. 

_Goodness_ , she thought again, though she didn’t say it out loud this time. She tried not to smile but wasn’t certain how successful the effort was. He looked almost in a daze. 

_Thank the Maker_. At last something had penetrated that impressive reserve. 

Sebastian saw the smile but instead of being embarrassed or apologizing, he smiled back at her, and Elthina didn’t think she’d seen a smile like that on his face since before Lachlan had passed away. 

He turned back to the girl, for now that Elthina could see her better she could see she was barely more than that, and his whole face softened: he looked at her as if she were something wondrous and rare, and the girl’s expression was a perfect mirror of his. 

_When on Thedas had this happened?_ Elthina wondered, even as her smile deepened. You simply couldn’t look at two people watching each other like that and not smile. The girl peeked around Sebastian at Elthina, and her cheeks turned pink. She glanced back at Sebastian and started laughing; a rich, joyous sound, absolutely genuine and Sebastian began laughing with her. Taking her by the hand he turned to Elthina. 

“Elthina Chantry, might I introduce, Miss Anabel Hawke.” His eyes went back to the girl as he spoke her name as if he couldn’t help looking at her. He picked up her bag from the floor of the elevator and guided her into the apartment.

He was in love, or well on his way to it, Elthina realized with surprise. He’d never even mentioned that he was seeing anyone, let alone that it was this serious. Elthina took a closer look at Miss Anabel Hawke. She was young, very young, and very lovely albeit in a very different way from the women Sebastian usually escorted around town. She was wearing a cheerful yellow dress in a style that Elthina remembered all too well from her own youth. She wore her hair loose, and what hair it was, a rich auburn red falling in untamed curls to her waist, and she had an actual hair ribbon holding it back from her face. Instead of the death defying heels that so many women favored these days, she had on simple sandals that laced around her ankles. She had her own unique style. An individual apparently, and wasn’t that refreshing after the women she was used to seeing with Sebastian who all seemed to be cast from the same mold. “It’s a very great pleasure to meet you, Miss Hawke.” She said, taking the girl’s hand and noting with approval that in spite of the smallness of her hand, her handshake was firm. 

Annie could only hope she didn’t appear as flustered as she felt. She was still trying to process that kiss, physically and emotionally. She could still feel it on her lips. Kisses like that only existed in bad Orlesian novels, that’s what she’d thought, even as she lamented the fact it was so. 

She’d been wrong. 

Apparently they did happen, though from the stunned look that Sebastian had given her when he’d pulled back to look at her, she didn’t think they happened very often. 

She forced herself to focus on the woman in front of her. Leave it to her to meet arguably the most powerful woman in Kirkwall while practically mauling her godson in her elevator – her private elevator, she corrected, realizing they were standing in an apartment, not in a hallway outside an apartment.

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Mrs. Chantry.” Should she apologize for the elevator thing? She glanced at Sebastian. He was still looking like he wanted to pounce, or at least like he had no regrets whatsoever about having pounced just now. She quickly looked away again, feeling her cheeks grow even pinker. “Sebastian speaks very highly of you.” 

“Call me Elthina, please, my dear.” Said Elthina warmly. The poor girl seemed quite flustered, though she was making a valiant attempt to hide it.

“Elthina.” Annie repeated. Sebastian had been right. Elthina Chantry was entirely approachable. She was tall woman and big boned, but she carried herself proudly and gracefully, and she had an air of calm about her. Her grey eyes were steady and her smile warm and gentle. She didn’t seem at all like someone who should be running a multi-billion sovereign corporation. “And it’s Annie, please. ‘Miss Hawke’ makes me sound like a particularly predatory librarian, and until quite recently it was only my mother who called me Anabel.” She looked up at Sebastian again and couldn’t help smiling. “For some reason Sebastian’s latched onto the name. I’ve no idea why.” 

“Anabel suits you.” Sebastian said simply. He’d barely taken his eyes from her. 

“So you’ve said, but I’ve been conditioned for years to think that I’ve done something appalling when I hear it. Someone calls me Anabel I always think I’m about to be scolded.” She informed them. “Though thinking about it, you’ve done your fair share of scolding me since we first met.”

“And it’s been entirely deserved. She’s no common sense at all.” He told Elthina with a smile. 

“Sebastian!” Elthina scolded.

Annie just laughed. “You can’t just come out and tell people that.” She turned back to Elthina. “He’s right of course, but I generally try and ease strangers into it.” 

She was completely unintimidated by him, Elthina realized. _Good. Very good_. “Come in please. I thought perhaps we’d have some coffee out on the terrace before we get down to business.” She suggested as she led them further into the apartment. 

Sebastian frowned. “I’m not certain we’ve got the t…” He started to say, and broke off mid-word when Annie poked him in the side. He stared down at her, uncertain if anyone had ever just poked him like that. 

She widened her eyes at him. She wanted Elthina relaxed and at ease. Reminding her about deadlines and forcing her to pose for pictures in front of a complete stranger wasn’t going to do that. “Coffee would be lovely.” She told her.

Elthina led them into the living room. It was a beautiful room. The whole apartment was beautiful, and huge of course. The living room alone could probably hold most of the Hanged Man, but it didn’t feel cold and formal, not like the recently renovated Amell mansion did. It was open and airy and filled with sunlight. It had all those details that the newer condos that were springing up all over Kirkwall lacked; elaborate molding and plasterwork, parquet floors and ceilings that must be at least ten feet high if not higher. The colors were soft and light and welcoming, and the walls covered with paintings and photographs.

The most impressive feature of the place was the rooftop garden that Annie could see through the leaded glass doors and the windows that lined almost the entire far wall of the room. She couldn’t help going to have a closer look. “How wonderful!” She said, turning back to Elthina with a brilliant smile. “Sebastian said you had a garden but I never imagined it was on the roof.”

“It’s my own sanctuary.” Elthina told her with a pleased smile. She opened the doors and they stepped out onto the terracotta tiles of the terrace.

It was amazing. There were trees, actual trees growing up there. There plants and flowers in containers, and even ivy and other climbing plants growing up the walls and on trellises and pergolas that offered shade. There were cushioned chairs and sofas of wicker, and tables with chairs, some in the open, some in carefully shaded areas. The space seemed to wrap around the building. “Are you the only apartment on this floor?” Annie asked.

Elthina nodded. “It lets me have a privacy that's often lacking in apartment living.”

Annie sighed happily. “I don’t think I’d ever come inside.” She told her. “Not until winter at least. I’d set up a hammock, and a supply of snacks and books and beverages and stay right here until the first frost.” 

Elthina couldn’t help laughing. “Do you know, I sometimes feel the same way. Perhaps not the hammock, I’m not sure my bones could handle that, but I spend quite a bit of time out here when weather permits.”

“It must have been a lot of work to get it to this point.”

“It was, but I must say I’m very proud of how it’s turned out."

“You should be.” Annie said, still taking it all in. It was a wonderful mixture of flowers and greenery, but it wasn’t stiff or formal at all. Almost without looking she moved closer to Sebastian and opening the bag that was still on his shoulder, pulled out her camera. She’d removed the lens cap and lifted the camera up when she hesitated, turning to Elthina. “I’m sorry, I should have asked. Do you mind if I take some pictures?”

“For the brochure?” Elthina asked with a small frown.

“Oh, no.” She said immediately. She looked out at the garden again. “Just because it’s beautiful. Just to capture it the way it looks right now.” 

The answer was so genuine that Elthina couldn’t help smiling. “Then by all means, go right ahead. As long as you send me some of the pictures.” 

“I will.” Promised Annie. She flashed them both a happy smile, and then she was gone – not just physically gone, but mentally as well, completely focused on what she was doing, and showing that same impressive concentration she’d had in the car yesterday. 

Sebastian’s eyes followed her as she moved around snapping picture after picture. After a few minutes he glanced back at Elthina and found her smiling quietly at him. 

“Give me a hand with the coffee, won’t you?” She asked. 

He followed her back inside to the kitchen, getting the cups and saucers from cabinets and putting them on a tray, while Elthina filled the porcelain coffee pot. It was a familiar routine. He waited to hear what she would say.

“She’s quite lovely.” Elthina told him, as she added the coffee pot to the tray. She opened a cardboard box with the name of an exclusive Hightown bakery written in elaborate gold letters on the lid, and arranged and an assortment of cakes and fruit tarts on a serving plate. 

“Yes.” Sebastian agreed. 

“And quite charming.” She added.

“Yes. Far too charming for her own good, I suspect.” 

“How old is she?” Elthina asked, unable to help herself. 

He’d been expecting the question and smiled ruefully. “Twenty-two.”

Elthina couldn’t stop the frown. “She’s very young, Sebastian.”

“Yes.” To say that Anabel was an ‘old soul’ or that she had been through so much that she had a maturity most twenty-two year olds lacked sounded ridiculous, so he didn’t add anything more. Elthina would discover it on her own as she got to know her better.

The fact that he didn’t try to deny it made Elthina feel a little better. Twenty-two. She tried to remember exactly how old Sebastian was now. Thirty-three? Thirty-four? So a twelve year difference between them. That wasn’t so bad. There had been ten years between her and her husband, though she had been in her thirties when they’d married. She thought again of that kiss she’d seen them share in the elevator. “Be careful.” She warned him.

“I intend to be. For her sake.” Some of the doubts he’d felt yesterday were resurfacing. He lifted a hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “Am I mad to even be considering this?” He asked his godmother. “I’ve never had this sort of reaction to any woman before. It’s unnerving to say the least.” 

“Finding someone who’s gotten under your rather formidable reserve so effortlessly? I can imagine it must be.”

“Am I so obvious?” He asked ruefully.

Her eyes were warm. “When I saw how you looked at her before? My first reaction was to wonder how it was that you’d met someone and fallen in love and you’d never even mentioned her to me. When did you meet her?”

Sebastian looked uncomfortable. “Only recently.” He said evasively and then he went very still when he realized what she’d said before that. “You said I’d fallen in love with her.” 

Elthina just smiled. “I could be wrong.”

Sebastian tried to laugh. “That’s ridiculous. There’s no such thing as love at first sight.”

Elthina passed him the tray. “And yet there are so many songs and poems and stories about it. Isn’t that interesting?” She picked up the plate of cakes and walked out of the kitchen. After a moment of processing what she’d just said, he picked up the tray and followed her.

They stepped out onto the terrace again and Sebastian looked around for Anabel. He spied her and his heart went to his throat. He hastily deposited the tray on the table, and stalked towards her. “Anabel Hawke! What in the Maker’s name do you think you’re doing?”

She turned, and actually waved at him. _Unbelievable_. She was standing on a chair that she’d dragged right up to the railing of the terrace, a wooden folding chair, he realized as he came closer; the sort that if she placed her foot wrong would fold up, collapse and possibly fling her over the side and twenty stories down to the pavement below. 

She smiled happily at him as he approached. “Come look. You can see the Hanged Man from up here.” She lifted her camera to get another shot and then let out a small squeal as his arms went around her thighs and he lifted her carefully off the chair. He didn’t put her down, and she reached out, putting one hand on his shoulder to steady herself, though in truth he was carrying her as carefully as if she were made of spun glass.

“I’m sorry, what is it you’re doing?” She asked, trying not to laugh.

“Trying to remember that you’re injured and I should resist the temptation to take you over my knee and spank you.” 

“Maybe on our second date?” She suggested as they reached the table. 

He couldn’t keep from smiling. “You are an outrageous brat.” He told her, gently lowering her to the ground. “I don’t know how you’ve survived for twenty-two minutes, let alone twenty-two years.” 

“Mmm.” She agreed. “Almost twenty-three years. And I’ve been driving for four of those. That’s what makes it truly impressive.” She turned back to Elthina. “Your garden is beautiful. I could spend hours here.” She told her, slipping carefully into the chair Sebastian was holding out for her.

“Thank you my dear.” Elthina said as she laid out the plates and forks for the pastries. “Sebastian, pour Annie some coffee, would you? Do you have a garden yourself?”

“No, not here, but we had one almost everywhere we lived growing up, and in Lothering we lived just on the edge of the Kokari Wilds – that’s a wildlife refuge back in Ferelden, a national park, part forest, part swamp. We’ve been here in Kirkwall for almost three years, and I still miss all that green. I even miss the brown. How wonderful it must be to have an oasis like this in the middle of the city. Is it all decorative?” 

“I’ve a few fruit trees.” Elthina told her, offering her a pastry, and smiling in approval when Anabel took one without any protestations about how unhealthy they were or that she needed to watch her figure. Petrice would have gone on for a quarter of an hour about carbs and refined sugar and flour and how much weight she’d lost on her latest diet. “There’s a cherry tree over in that corner that produces an almost embarrassing amount of fruit. And I’ve got kitchen garden with various herbs and such so Sebastian has them when he comes and cooks for me.”

Annie turned to Sebastian, unable to hide her surprise at that bit of information. “You can cook?” She asked as she accepted the cup of coffee he handed her. 

He leaned back in his chair and crossed over one leg over the other, giving her an easy smile. “I’m a bachelor who works late hours and tires very quickly of takeaway. Basic cooking skills are a necessity.” 

She looked at him for a moment with an almost suspicious frown on her face and then turned to Elthina. “He’s brilliant at it isn’t he? A gourmet chef.” She made it a statement.

“He is indeed.” Elthina said, her eyes twinkling. “Haven’t you cooked for Annie, Sebastian?” 

“I haven’t yet had the opportunity. I hope to rectify that soon.”

He was looking at her in a way that made her blush all over again. He wanted to cook for her. Which meant he wanted to see her again. Which was just…

_Wonderful._

She tried to hide her smile as she took a sip of her coffee. It was perfect – just the right amount of cream and sugar. Her eyes widened as she realized what that meant. Sebastian had added just the perfect amount of cream and sugar. Had he truly been paying such close attention to her at brunch that he already knew exactly how she took her coffee? She glanced up at him and found him still watching her, still with that easy smile that she couldn’t help answering with one of her own. 

Elthina could have warmed her hands on the affection flowing between them. “So tell me how the two of you met. Have you known each other long?” She asked looking between them. 

“We’ve known each other approximately…” Sebastian looked at his watch “…twenty-one hours.” 

Sebastian had said he’d only met her recently, but Elthina hadn’t realized he’d meant that recently. “You met only yesterday?” 

Sebastian looked over at Anabel and his smile deepened. “Yes. Quite by accident.”

Annie laughed before she could stop herself. “You’re awful.” She told him. shaking her head as she turned back to Elthina. “I was photographing a wedding on the Wounded Coast and I got lost coming back. Sebastian was kind enough to stop and offer directions and I repaid his kindness by driving into the back of his car.”

Elthina looked at her in surprise. “That was you?”

 _It’s a company car_ Sebastian had said. Annie’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh, sweet Andraste, the Bentley’s yours isn’t it? I am so sorry.”

Elthina waved away her concerns. “I’m sure the insurance companies will take care of it.”

“Oh, they will.” Annie hastened to assure her. “I spoke to them this morning. I feel awful though. Sebastian said it was a company car and that was bad enough.”

“She’s a terrible driver.” Sebastian told Elthina with a teasing smile at the girl. “Truly awful.” He added.

When was the last time she had seen Sebastian tease someone?

“Nonsense. I’m sure Annie is a fine driver.”

Annie just laughed. “No. he’s right. I am a very bad driver. A menace. The opinion seems to be unanimous. Luckily as of ten o’clock this morning it’s no longer an issue.”

Sebastian looked puzzled. “No longer an issue?”

“My insurance company is less than thrilled that they’ll have to be covering the repairs to a Bentley. If I remain on the policy they were going to up the premium so much that we simply couldn’t afford it, so my days of driving are over for now. You can travel the Wounded Coast Highway without fear.” Both Elthina and Sebastian looked so appalled that she couldn’t help laughing. “Truly it’s fine. I’m far happier not driving. Carver – that’s my brother – “ She explained to Elthina, “has a spotless driving record so he’s just fine.”

“Will this impact your work?” Sebastian asked. He hadn’t even considered that she might lose her insurance as a result of the accident. 

“Honestly, most of my jobs are in Kirkwall anyway, and for those that aren’t, well I’m sure I can talk or nag someone into giving me a lift when I need one.”

“I’m so sorry.” Said Elthina. She looked almost as troubled at the news as Sebastian seemed to be. “And Sebastian said you’d been injured in the accident as well.” 

She brushed Elthina’s concerns away with a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. Just a little banged up.” 

Sebastian rolled his eyes as he selected another pastry and put it on her plate, before leaning back in his chair again. “She broke two ribs.” He informed Elthina. 

Elthina’s face went from concerned to almost alarmed. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

Annie laughed. “You’re both going to spoil me if you’re not careful: I’m not used to be worried over like this. I’m fine, really, a little sore is all.” Wanting to change the subject she turned to Elthina. “I thought you might want to see some of my work before we get started.” 

Elthina had almost forgotten why they were both here and now she found herself curious as to the girl’s qualifications. She was as charming as Sebastian in her own way, Elthina thought. “I’d like that very much.” 

Annie turned to Sebastian. “Could you get the computer bag?” 

They set up her computer and she opened the slideshow and shifted her chair a little closer to Elthina’s. “It will play automatically, but you can hit pause if you’ve got any questions, or skip ahead if you like.” 

Elthina looked through her portfolio and Sebastian remained standing behind Elthina’s chair offering comments and pointing out photographs he was particularly impressed with. 

When he had done this for the fourth time, Anabel interrupted. “I'm sorry, Sebastian. Could you get me a glass of water? My ribs are aching a bit. I think maybe I should take one of my pills.” 

“Are you all right?” He asked, mentally chastising himself for dragging her here to work when she probably should have been resting.

“Nothing a pill won’t take care of. I just don’t know if it’s a good idea to take them with coffee. I’ll have to ask Anders about that later.“

He rested his hand on her arm briefly. “I’ll be right back with some water.” 

She watched him go back into the apartment and turned immediately back to Elthina. “I’m sorry. I think he’s worried that you think he’s quite mad to have hired me for this; hence the hard sell on his part. I’d rather just let you look at the pictures and decide for yourself. I know I’ve never done anything on this scale before but I feel certain I’ll be able to give you a picture that’s better suited to the brochure than the one Sebastian has, if you’re willing to give me the opportunity.” 

Elthina smiled approvingly. “I agree. You’re very talented, Annie.” 

She felt a tension that she hadn’t been aware of vanish. “Thank you. I love doing it.” 

“It shows.” Elthina told. “However I’m not so sure it’s his own reputation that Sebastian is protecting. It’s yours.”

Annie looked in surprise at the door Sebastian had disappeared through. “No. Do you think so?” She was unaccountably pleased by the idea. There was no reason why his good opinion should carry such weight, she’d only just met him after all, but she couldn’t deny it did. A small smile curved her lips, even as she shook her head in bewilderment. “This has been the strangest twenty-four hours. Wonderful, but very strange.”

Elthina reached over and patted her hand. “The best things in life usually are.” Whatever it was that Sebastian was feeling for this girl it was plain to see that she was feeling it as well.

When Sebastian returned with the water Anabel had already begun taking pictures. She chatted merrily the whole while, and after a time Elthina seemed to almost forget she was being photographed. After about thirty minutes on the terrace they moved inside to Elthina’s study and took a series of pictures in there. 

Annie finally lowered the camera and passed it to Sebastian.

“I think we’ve gotten what you need. Take a look.” 

A quick scroll through the pictures on the camera told Sebastian that Anabel had more than accomplished what he’d asked her to do.

They gathered her equipment together and stepped into the elevator promising Elthina they’d both come and see her soon. The door closed and Sebastian looked at her, remembering what had happened the last time they been inside it. Anabel’s eyes were fixed on the numbers showing the elevator’s descent. She seemed almost unaware he was beside her. Was she not thinking of it? He’d been sure it had affected her the same way it had him. A hint of a frown was beginning to appear on his face when she spoke.

“We’re already at the fourteenth floor. If you’re planning on kissing me again you should probably make your move soon.” She glanced sideways at him and her blue-green eyes were dancing merrily. 

The corner of his mouth twitched. “What makes you think I was planning on kissing you again?” He asked evenly, looking straight ahead.

“Oh, a girl gets a sense about these things.” She said airily. “Eleven. Time’s running out.”

“I had no intention of kissing you for the first time in an elevator, you know.” 

“Nine. No, I imagine your usual _modus operandi_ is a bit more traditional.”

He did frown at her then. “My _modus operandi_?” He started to say.

“Six. Hopeless. A bit disappointing really, after that promising start on the ride up.” She said and then he was kissing her again and it was every bit as wonderful as it had been that first time. 

They were both breathing faster when he broke the kiss just as the elevator reached the lobby. 

He leaned his head against hers and she reached out and twined her fingers through his. 

“You’re quite good at that.” She said faintly.

He smiled and lifted her hand to his lips. “As are you. I’m never going to be able to think of elevators in quite the same way after today.” 

She laughed, and he couldn’t keep from smiling at the sound. The elevator doors opened and she felt him stiffen, just slightly. When she looked up his face was as relaxed and serene as it always was. She turned to see who or what had caused the reaction he’d been so quick to conceal.

There was a woman standing there. Tall, model thin, with pale blonde hair in that fell in perfectly styled waves to just above her shoulders. She was wearing a pristinely white pant suit that Annie though she’d seen on the pages of a recent fashion magazine, the sort of outfit you looked at and though, yeah, it looks great, but who would actually wear it? Apparently this woman. She was staring suspiciously at Sebastian. “Auntie Elthina didn’t mention you were stopping by today.” 

Sebastian put a hand at Annie’s elbow and guided her from the elevator. “It was an unplanned visit. Anabel Hawke, this is Petrice Chantry, Elthina’s great-niece."

Petrice turned cold grey eyes to her. They flickered over the thrift shop dress, the simple flat sandals, and then up to the tangled red curls. The corner of her lip twitched in a quick small sneer and then she turned back to Sebastian, having deemed Annie apparently unworthy of any further attention. “I hope you haven’t been bothering her with business? At her age she should be resting, not working on the weekend.”

The words should have shown concern, but from Petrice they sounded almost as if she was accusing Sebastian of something.

Sebastian's hand tightened almost imperceptibly on Annie's elbow, but when he spoke his voice was calm. “Elthina’s not an invalid, Petrice. Treating her as one isn’t going to make her retire any sooner. And no one can make her do something she doesn’t wish to. Not I, and certainly not you. Excuse us, we have an appointment.”

He didn’t speak as they left the building, and when Annie looked up at him, he had a small scowl on his face.

“So.” She said conversationally. “Petrice seems sweet.” 

Sebastian stopped in his tracks and stared her.

Her mouth was curved in a mischievous smile and he couldn’t help laughing. “I apologize. I probably owe you an explanation for that. Elthina is retiring in two years. Petrice thinks she should be the one to replace her.” He hesitated for a moment. “She also thinks that I’m interested in the job myself. It’s caused a certain…tension.”

“Are you interested in the job?” Anabel asked.

“No.” He said shortly. “I’m quite happy where I am. I’m not nearly as ambitious as Petrice thinks I am, but I shudder to think of what the Chantry Corporation might become under her guidance.” He tucked her hand into the corner of his arm and they started walking again.

“Genetics is a funny thing, isn’t it? She’s nothing at all like Elthina. Isn’t there anyone else who’s interested?”

“Plenty of people, though no one who’d be able to stand up to Petrice and her machinations.” No one had come out and said it but several long standing executives had begun dropping hints that he should pursue the position. He truly hoped it wouldn’t go beyond hints. He looked back down at Anabel. “I should probably tell you that it was Petrice’s boyfriend who took the previous picture of Elthina. She’s going to be less than thrilled that I managed to find someone to replace him.”

“I’m sorry if it causes you trouble.” Annie said sympathetically, as they walked into the busy Chantry Plaza. The decision had been made a few decades ago to close the area off to traffic. There were tables and chairs, and several kiosks selling drinks and various snacks. A trio of musicians had set up and were playing some lively jazz music. It had become a very popular spot on the weekends.

“The Foundation is under my control, not Petrice’s, and when she convinced Elthina to hire Varnell, I made quite certain that the contract allowed me to replace him if the work wasn’t up to par. Petrice might stamp her feet and complain loudly but there’s nothing she can do about it.” He looked down at Anabel and smiled. “The photos you took are wonderful. You surpassed even my expectations. I don’t know how to thank you.” 

“Buy me an ice cream cone and we’ll call it even.” She said looking past him to an ice cream vendor. 

He couldn’t help laughing, suspecting that had he not pressed the issue of payment she would have been perfectly happy with ice cream as compensation. “An ice cream cone it is then.” He said, putting his hand at the small of her back and guiding her to the stand. “What would you like?” 

Her eyes traveled over the selection. “Blackberry fudge ripple.” She announced. “On a chocolate dipped cone.”

Sebastian gave a small shudder. “One blackberry fudge ripple on a chocolate dipped cone, and one vanilla. On a plain cone.” He added hastily.

“Vanilla!” She sounded absolutely outraged. 

“Yes, vanilla.”

“It’s the most boring flavor there is!” She said accusingly.

“I like vanilla.” He said passing the money to the vendor. 

Anabel was shaking her head. “Vanilla.” She repeated. “Oh, Sebastian Vael, I have so much to teach you.” 

His eyes twinkled as he looked down at her. “I look forward to it.” He said, and laughed when her cheeks turned pink. His cellphone rang, and he pulled it out and looked at the number. “I’m sorry, it’s Saemus again.”

“Go ahead.” She told him. “I’ll get this.” 

He walked a short distance away from the musicians and answered the call. “Saemus. We’ve finished up. We should be back in the office in about fifteen minutes.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask.” Said Saemus tentatively. “Did Annie get something we can use?”

Sebastian looked across at the kiosk where Anabel was laughing with the man working there. “Saemus, we have a positive embarrassment of riches. I think the difficulty is going to be choosing which picture to use.” 

“Oh, thank the Maker.” Said Saemus. “Fifteen minutes you said?”

“Yes.” Sebastian said still staring at Annie. “We’re just having an ice cream cone.”

There was a moment of dead silence at the other end. “I’m sorry. I think our connection is faulty. Did you say you were having an ice cream cone?” Saemus asked. Sebastian could hear the laughter in his voice.

“Fifteen minutes, Saemus.” Sebastian told him, and ended the call. 

Before he could return to Anabel’s side someone stepped into his path. “Prince Sebastian. I thought that was you.”

 

Annie grabbed a handful of paper napkins from the dispenser, nearly dropping one of the cones as she did, and turned to look for Sebastian. She saw him at the edge of the Plaza and her heart did that weird little flutter again. Every time she looked at him she was struck again by how impossibly, perfectly handsome he was. She had no idea why he would be interested in her, but after that elevator kiss she couldn’t deny he was. He was talking to an elegantly dressed older woman and deciding he looked like he needed rescuing, she increased her pace. Sebastian glanced over the woman’s head and saw her and smiled, and Maker, there was that flutter again. 

The woman he’d been speaking to turned around, presumably to see who had caught his attention and Annie’s step faltered. “Mother?” _Shit_ , she thought but managed to keep from saying it out loud.

 _Mother_? Sebastian looked at Mrs. Amell and then back at Anabel who was standing there, looking completely horrified, and holding the two cones at precarious angles, as if she had forgotten she even carried them. Even as he watched, the blackberry cone tilted unsteadily and the scoop of ice cream rolled off onto her chest and down the bodice of her yellow dress leaving a trail of purple in its wake. She jerked back to try and keep it from her skirt, and let out a small whimper of pain, dropping the rest of the cone on the ground. Her hand went to her ribcage.

Sebastian was immediately at her side taking the remaining cone from her with one hand and slipping the other gently around her waist, supporting her. “Breathe.” 

She took a careful breath and looked up at him. “It’s all right. I just moved too fast. Fuck.” She said faintly, resting her head against his chest. Her ribs had begun to ache a bit when she'd been photographing Elthina, just from holding the camera up for so long, but that ache had subsided. This was that same stabbing pain she'd had yesterday. 

“Anabel! Language! What must Prince Sebastian think?” Mrs. Amell, had joined them and was somehow managing to look simultaneously appalled and confused.

“It’s quite all right, Mrs. Amell. The movement hurt the ribs she injured in the accident, that’s all. A more than excusable reason to curse a bit.” He said in a soothing voice.

“Leandra, please, Your Highness.” She said automatically and then frowned, as much as her botoxed features would allow, at least. “Accident?” She repeated.

Anabel straightened up. “It was nothing Mother, just a fender-bender.”

Much to Sebastian’s surprise, Mrs. Amell didn’t ask any further questions about the accident, or her daughter’s injury. Instead her eyes were fixed to where Sebastian’s hand still rested on Anabel’s waist. “I didn’t realize you two even knew each other.” She sounded utterly perplexed. 

Before Sebastian could offer an explanation, Anabel had moved away from him. He was surprised by how stiff and uncomfortable she suddenly seemed. “I’m doing some work for Sebastian, Mother. For the Chantry Foundation.”

That seemed only to add to Leandra Amell’s puzzlement. “Waitressing?” 

Sebastian saw Anabel’s nostrils flare in annoyance. “Photography.” She didn’t elaborate.

“Photography?” Leandra said it as if it was a foreign word. 

Could she truly be unaware of how talented her daughter was? He was beginning to understand why Anabel didn’t speak to her very often. “Anabel and I were having brunch this morning when I got a call about a photographic emergency with our latest brochure. Your daughter was kind enough to come to my rescue.” 

Again Leandra Amell seemed more confused than anything. Sebastian couldn’t help looking for some resemblance to Anabel and failed to find any, though he could see where Carver got his height and coloring, the dark hair and olive skin. Leandra was tall and elegant, with a figure that was usually referred to as ‘statuesque’. She had probably been a handsome woman when she was younger, but Anabel hadn’t exaggerated when she’d said her mother had undergone far too much plastic surgery. Everything was pulled just a little too tight, and her features were almost frozen in place from what Sebastian assumed were botox injections. Her hair was carefully dyed a dark brown, and every hair was perfectly in place, but her hairline seemed to start slightly too high above her ears. She turned that perfectly coiffed head towards her daughter, looking her over carefully, and frowning when she saw the ice cream stain. 

Anabel looked down and flushed, wiping at it with the napkins she held. “I know.” She said, before Leandra could say. “I’m far too clumsy. I should be more careful.”

“And I’m certain you didn’t need that ice cream anyway.” She turned to Sebastian. “I’ve been telling Anabel for years that she should be more careful of what she eats. We girls need to watch our figures, don’t we, Your Highness?” She said with a small laugh that rang utterly false, though she appeared not to realize it. “So perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that you dropped it, Anabel.” 

Sebastian had to work to keep his expression pleasant. Leandra Amell and her husband had given very generously to the Foundation last year but for the first time in a long while he found himself wanting to say exactly what he was thinking, and generous donation be damned. Instead he smiled at Anabel. “Take mine.” He said, handing her the vanilla cone. “I did promise you an ice cream.” 

Annie took it with a small smile, feeling some of the frustration that came from any encounter with her mother disappear. The ice cream had begun melting while they’d been talking and she quickly ran her tongue around it, catching the drips. When she looked up, her mother looked irritated – at her of course, not Sebastian, and Sebastian…. she glanced over at him and sweet Andraste. He looked like he wanted to pounce again. She couldn’t stop the giggle that came out and Sebastian smiled broadly. She knew what he was thinking, and he knew she knew it. Leandra’s picking at her seemed suddenly unimportant. She turned to her mother with a brilliant smile.

“We’ve got to go, Mother. But I’ll get Carver to call you.” She looked up at Sebastian, “Shall we?”

“Yes.” He turned to her Mother. “It was lovely to see you again, Mrs. Amell.” 

“Leandra.” Leandra said, automatically. She’d been staring at her daughter as if she’d never quite seen her before, but she quickly turned back to Sebastian. “It was a pleasure seeing you as well, Your Highness.”

He smiled a charming smile, and slipped his arm around Anabel’s waist. “Sebastian.” He told her, and they walked away, leaving her standing there.

They didn’t speak again until they were well out of earshot, at the far end of the Plaza, and when they did it was at exactly the same time.

“I’d no idea you’d knew my mother.” She commented, just as he asked. “Why didn’t you tell me Leandra Amell was your mother?” 

Sebastian was trying to remember everything he knew about the Amells. They had been one of the finest families in the Free Marches until a series of scandals, and disastrous business failures, most of them not quite legal had brought them down. Leandra had returned to Kirkwall a few years ago, contested her parents’ will, which was proven to be a forgery, and reacquired the Amell mansion as well as several properties in and around Kirkwall that her brother had disposed of when it was thought he was the heir. She’d renovated the mansion and moved in there with her second husband. Sebastian had never heard mention of any children from her first marriage.

“You mean why didn’t I start bragging about my Hightown connections within twenty-four hours of meeting you?” She asked, her attention firmly focused on the ice cream cone.

He couldn’t help a rueful smile. “I suppose that’s a fair comment. I keep forgetting that I’ve known you for such a short time. I feel I should know all your secrets already.” He watched her lick at the ice cream for a moment. “For someone who doesn’t care for vanilla ice cream you’re devouring that with rather impressive enthusiasm.”

She’d just taken a bite of the ice cream, taking most of it from the top of the cone. “It’s surprisingly good, actually.” She admitted when she’d swallowed. She guiltily offered the rest to him. “There’s still some left if you want a taste.”

“I’ve a better idea.” He took the cone from her hand and tossed it in a nearby bin. Lifting her chin with one hand, he leaned down and kissed her, gently running his tongue along her lips, tasting the sweet vanilla that lingered there, and, as she parted her lips, tasting deeper. She let out a soft moan, and moved closer to him. He slid his hand deep into her hair, and the other arm around her, resting his hand on her lower back.

When he finally broke the kiss they could only stare at each other. “The taste of vanilla suits you.” He told her, and his voice was just a little deeper, a little rougher than it had been before.

“Does it?” She asked breathlessly, her eyes huge in her face.

“Yes.” He said with a smile. “So much so that when you’re fully healed I’m considering buying a whole pint of the stuff, just so I can see if it tastes as good licked off of other places.”

Her heart was suddenly beating far too quickly. “Sounds rather chilly.” She said lightly, trying to ignore the images the statement had conjured.

There was heat in those blue eyes now that seemed to make them almost glow. “No. I don’t think a lack of heat will be an issue.” He told her with a teasing smile that deepened when he saw her cheeks turn pink. He slid his hand into hers. “Why didn’t you tell your mother about us?” He asked as they resumed walking slowly towards the entrance of the Chantry building.

She blinked in surprise at the question. “I suppose because it seemed presumptuous to assume there was an ‘us’ to tell about. I’ve only just met you. For all I know you could make a habit of picking up stranded young ladies on the Wounded Coast and snogging them in elevators.”

“No, you’re quite unique in that.” He told with a smile. He thought of how enjoyable the day had been – how enjoyable the last twenty-four hours, in fact, had been and stopped walking suddenly.

She gave him a questioning look.

He looked at her and his whole face softened. He brushed a curl back from her face. “I find myself liking the idea of an ‘us’, Anabel Hawke. Of pursuing an ‘us’.” He wound the curl slowly around his finger. “I was wondering if you had any thoughts on the subject.”

She tilted her head and her dimple danced at the corner of her mouth. “Are you asking to be my boyfriend, Sebastian Vael?”

He laughed out loud, that same rich laugh that had turned heads when they were down in Lowtown, and indeed was doing it here as well. “I suppose I am.” He must be mad, he thought yet again, but somehow it didn’t seem to bother him as much anymore. “What do you think of the idea?” 

What a strange whirlwind of a twenty-four hours it had been. “I like it.” She told him with an approving nod. “I think it has a great deal of potential.”

“Potential?” He repeated with an arched eyebrow and a teasing smile. Unable to help himself, he bent down to kiss her, an unhurried, gentle brush of his lips against hers. When he began to straighten up, she reached out, tugging gently on his shirt and pulled him back down and kissed him, rather more insistently than he had kissed her. He didn't seem to mind.

“Oh yes. A lot of potential.” She said eventually. She couldn't seem to quite end the kiss, and leaned in again, kissing him a few more times, gently nibbling kisses this time, before adding. “I can imagine all sorts of wonderful things coming of it, can’t you?”

“Oh yes.” He echoed, stepping closer. His hand cupped her face, and he ran his thumb lightly over her lower lip, and then he bent and kissed her again before straightening up. He stared at her for a moment. How on Thedas could just kissing her have such an effect? How would making love to her feel, if just kissing her... “How long before your ribs are fully healed?” He asked.

And just from that question her heart was pounding again. Six to eight weeks, Anders had said. “Six weeks.” She told Sebastian. She'd always healed fast. She turned her head and bit gently at his thumb and he shivered and leaned down and kissed her yet again, one last time, he told himself, tangling his hands in her hair, imagining it spread out on his white sheets; imagining her spread out on his white sheets. 

Six weeks had never seemed so long. 

They only stopped when Sebastian’s phone began to ring again. He let out a groan of frustration and broke the kiss, pulling out his phone. It was Petrice. Elthina must have told her about the picture. Without hesitation, he hit the ignore button and put the phone back in his pocket.

“We should head upstairs.” He told her. “We’ll choose a picture, let Saemus and the rest of them send this brochure off to the printers, and then if you’ll let me, I’ll take you out somewhere for dinner, some place small and candlelit and romantic.” He said thinking of a small Orlesian bistro near his townhouse. “How does that sound?” 

“Perfect.” She told him happily. 

 

She woke up the next morning to the repeated text notification chime of her phone. She’d taken the maximum dose of the codeine laced Tylenol when she’d gotten in, in enough pain that she had braved Anders’ lecture about letting herself heal and not doing too much. She opened her eyes and peered at her phone. Meeran. _What the Void_? She hadn’t heard from him since the day she’d quit her job in disgust. She pulled up the text.

_Aren’t you the dark horse? If you’ve got the goods bring them to me. You know I can get you the best price for any photos or dirt. You were a pain in the ass, but a talented pain in the ass. No reason why we shouldn’t work together again._

She stared at it with a frown. Apparently Meeran had finally lost his mind. What the Void was he talking about? Or maybe it was her. Her brain felt awfully fuzzy still.

She pulled on her dragon kimono and stumbled downstairs to the kitchen in search of coffee. The others were all there and they went quiet when she walked in. She didn’t stop to think why, just headed straight for the coffee pot. “Morning.”

“Did you have fun yesterday, Kitten?” Asked Isabela. 

“Sure.” Annie replied. 

“Anything special happen?” She asked innocently.

 _Yes. Sebastian Vael wants to be my boyfriend._ She wasn’t quite ready to share that with them. “Not really. We took the pictures, chose one for the brochure and then he took me out to dinner at some place up in Hightown.” She added cream and sugar to her coffee and turned around. All of them were watching her carefully. It was…disconcerting, to say the least.

“Nothing else?” Isabela persisted. 

“Nothing worth mentioning.” 

“Uh-huh. You might want to take a look at the front page of the paper.” Isabela passed it to her.

Anabel looked at it and her face fell. “Shit.” 

It was a picture of her and Sebastian in the Plaza yesterday, kissing. A series of pictures, actually that showed it hadn’t been one kiss but several. They weren’t very good pictures, obviously taken from distance, but Sebastian was easily recognizable. She just looked small, and overwhelmed by her hair. She looked at the headline. 

**Playboy Prince Fondles Flame-haired Mystery Maiden**

Well someone at the Kirkwall Herald had a penchant for alliteration.

In smaller print beneath that it added:

_Is the former playboy prince returning to his wicked ways? And who is the red-headed temptress who’s led him away from the straight and narrow path he stayed on for so long?_

“Shit.” She repeated, just as the phone began to ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [A Happy Accident photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/a+happy+accident)


	8. Seven Minutes in Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The paparazzi's discovery of their relationship changes Sebastian's plans for his and Annie's relationship.

“Shit.” She repeated for the third time staring at the headline as Carver answered the phone. Had Sebastian seen it? He must have. 

“Yeah, Mum, she’s right here.” 

Annie looked up from the paper in alarm. Carver was holding the phone out to her. 

She shook her head, mouthing the word _no_. The last thing she needed was a lecture from Leandra, and she knew that Leandra was calling to lecture her about the pictures because Leandra never called just to speak to her. 

Carver rolled his eyes and thrust the receiver out again. 

She shook her head again, more emphatically this time. 

_Take it._ Carver mouthed.

 _No._ She mouthed again.

“Anabel? Are you there?” 

Carver put the phone on the table in front of her and walked back to where he’d been standing, by the counter next to Merrill. 

With a rude gesture at Carver, that earned her a smirk, and a resigned sigh at the telephone, Annie picked the receiver up. “Sorry, Mother, I’m here.”

“It’s very rude to just leave someone waiting on the phone like that, Anabel.”

“Uh-huh.” She said absently looking at the pictures and trying to decide if the difference in their heights looked ridiculous. 

“Please don’t grunt. It’s so unattractive in a young lady."

Was it more attractive in a young man? She was tempted to ask, but knew there wasn’t any point to it. She’d probably by more inclined to heed to her mother’s advice if there was ever any logic behind it. 

“Have you seen the paper this morning? Have you seen those vulgar pictures splashed on the front page?” 

She took a sip of her coffee, partly so she wouldn’t have to answer the question, but mostly because she really needed coffee. “I have.” The height difference was actually kind of cute, she decided. It made him look all protective. Or maybe that was the way he was holding her. She found herself smiling stupidly at the picture. 

“And what do you have to say for yourself?” Leandra demanded.

“About what?” She asked absent-mindedly. At least you couldn’t see the ice cream stain on her dress.

“Anabel!” 

Right, the papers. What did she have to say for herself? “I think I may need a haircut. My hair looked a little wild, I thought. Not too much off the length, but maybe put in a few more layers, just to neaten it up a bit.” 

“Anabel! What were you thinking, kissing Prince Sebastian in the middle of the Plaza?”

She thought about actually telling her what she’d been thinking: about him licking vanilla ice cream off of her, and having this incredibly good looking, charming and sophisticated older man telling her he wanted to be her boyfriend, and finally about the amazing sex they were going to have when her ribs had finally healed. She couldn’t imagine that it wouldn’t be amazing, not after those oh so promising kisses. She frowned wondering if that whole six weeks thing was really written in stone. How much difference could a week or two really make? 

“Anabel!” Her mother repeated.

“He kissed me actually. I was just responding in kind. It seemed the polite thing to do.” 

Isabela gave an approving snort of laughter and Carver just rolled his eyes.

“Anabel!” 

Maker she hated when her mother said Anabel like that. She could feel her newfound affection for the name being slowly drained away. How was it that it sounded so different when Sebastian said it?

“I don’t think you realize how important this is.” Leandra continued. “And how important Sebastian Vael is. Quentin says…”

Annie opened her mouth to tell her mother just how little she cared about Quentin’s opinion on the matter but before she could her cell phone began to ring and when she glanced at it she saw it was Sebastian. “Hold on Mother, Carver needs to talk to you.” She tossed the phone at her brother, knowing those athletic reflexes would kick in. 

He automatically caught it and glared at her, returning the rude gesture she’d made at him earlier. 

She blew him a kiss as she picked up her phone and walked into the living room. “I am so sorry.” She said as soon as she'd answered it.

There was a pause from the other end. “I was about to say the same.” Sebastian told her. The phone had been ringing off the hook since he’d walked in to the office this morning. “If I’d had any idea there was a photographer in the Plaza I would never have kissed you like that.”

Annie couldn’t help smiling. Just the sound of voice erased the irritation that five minutes conversation with her mother had generated. Maker he had an amazing voice. Comforting but sexy, deep without sounding hoarse. There should be a word for it. Butterscotch, perhaps: rich and smooth and soothing and sweet, definitely sweet, but not cloying or overwhelming in the slightest. “How would you have kissed me?” She curled up on the window seat. “I rather liked the way you did kiss me, but if you’ve got something better in your repertoire I’d be open to a demonstration. Provided I can fit you into my schedule, of course.”

He didn’t think anyone had ever made him smile so easily. “Of course.” He been worried that she’d be upset, but she seemed to be taking it perfectly in stride. 

“How’s next Thursday work for you? My morning’s booked, but my afternoon’s completely free.” 

He turned his chair so he was facing the window behind his desk that overlooked the Plaza. “I think I could squeeze you in. You’re certain your boyfriend wouldn’t mind?” 

“Oh no.” She assured him. “He’s very understanding about such things.” Her cheeks were actually aching from the grin plastered on her face. “Is it ridiculous to say I miss you?” She asked.

“Yes, very. And I miss you too.”

She leaned her head against the window and traced a pattern there with her finger. “Quite honestly, if I had to choose between not being kissed by you or not being on the front page of a trashy newspaper I’d still pick being kissed.” She told him.

“Would you now?” 

She could hear the smile in his voice. “Oh, definitely.” 

“Well, in that case I can freely admit that I was lying just now. I don’t think I’d have stopped even if I had seen the photographer.” And that alone let him know just how far gone he was. He listened with pleasure as she laughed at his response and then added. “The lucky thing is that no one knows who you are, so you at least are off the radar for now.”

 _Shit. Meeran._ “Umm…about that.”

He frowned. “They haven’t been bothering you?”

“No, not precisely. Do you remember my mentioning that I used to work for a rather unsavory fellow when I first moved to Kirkwall?”

“The one who wanted you to manufacture evidence for his clients?” 

“Yes, Meeran. I’ve been getting cryptic texts from him all morning offering me loads of money if I could deliver ‘the goods’. I’d no idea what he was talking about until I saw the paper just now.” 

There was a pause before he replied. “I see.”

That was…noncommittal at best. _Crap_ , she thought before continuing. “So the good news is that other than my friends and my mother no one knows who I am but one person. The bad news is that person is completely without scruples and if I don’t answer his texts soon he’ll probably try and make some coin telling every newspaper in town who I am, and include every unsavory detail he knows about me, and probably a few he makes up as well.” She prepared herself for his reaction.

There was another longer pause. _Crap, crap, crap._

“You’re certain that’s what he’ll do?” Sebastian said after a moment in that same carefully neutral voice.

 _No. Forget I said anything. Forget I used to work for a sleazy private detective. Forget how unsuitable I am for someone like you._ “Unless he’s undergone a radical personality change at some point in the last two years.” 

“Well that changes things a bit.” No pause at all this time.

Her heart sank. “Of course. And I understand.” Trust working for Meeran for a year to come back and bite her in the ass.

“Understand?” He sounded puzzled.

“That you don’t want the negative press. Truly I understand completely.” _Look how mature and grown up I am. I’m not nearly as much of disaster as I might seem given everything that’s happened, truly._ She tried to resist the urge to bang her head against the window.

“Anabel, are you under the impression I’m ending our relationship?” 

“I can’t blame you. Barely thirty-six hours since we’ve met and our relationship consists of my crashing into your car, effectively drunk dialing you, and getting your picture splashed across the tabloids.”

“As well as two very pleasant meals together, a series of exceptionally promising kisses and your coming to the rescue of the Chantry Foundation. Do you want to end the relationship?”

“No!” She said far more emphatically than she had intended. _So much for playing it cool._ “Sorry. That sounded a bit desperate, didn’t it? No, I don’t. But there’ll be no keeping it a secret once Meeran realizes I won’t be playing along.”

“So we won’t keep it a secret.” He made it sound as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “My wanting to keep things quiet was for purely selfish reasons in any case. I wanted you to myself for a while. Are you busy tonight?”

“No.” She said immediately and couldn’t help laughing. “I’m horrible at this whole playing hard to get thing aren’t I?”

He smiled at the sound of that laugh. “Yes. It’s one of the many things I find so attractive about you.”

She leaned her head against the window frame. Sweet Andraste he was smooth. “You find desperation that attractive, do you?” She asked.

“I find honesty attractive. I find people who don’t play games enormously attractive.”

“I like some games.” She told him. “Parcheesi. Backgammon. Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

“What on Thedas is ‘Seven Minutes in Heaven”?” Sebastian asked.

“You’ve never played Seven Minutes in Heaven?” She sounded positively appalled.

“I’ve never even heard of Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

She shook her head. Imagine having never heard of Seven Minutes in Heaven. “I’m beginning to think you lived a far more deprived existence than I had thought locked away in that ivory tower of yours. It’s a party game. Everyone writes down their name and all the girls’ names go into one bowl and the boys’ in another. Then someone draws a name from each and the two have to go into a closet with the door closed for seven minutes.” 

He thought about it. “I assume kissing plays a part in this?”

“What happens in the closet stays in the closet.” She told him lightly.

“And is this a game you played often?” 

“Me? No. Only once in junior high. It was a bit of a disaster actually.”

“And why’s that?” He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“The boy I was paired up with got a bit handsy. I made a fuss. Got called a spoilsport and a few other names that in hindsight were rather surprising coming from a group of teenyboppers.”

“Do people still use that word?” Sebastian asked

“This person does. But I’ve also been known to say ‘swell’ and ‘golly’ on occasion. Consider yourself warned.” 

“How old were you?”

“Fourteen or so.”

“And no one came to your defense?” The idea of a fourteen year old Anabel shut in a closet with some pimply ‘handsy’ youth roused surprisingly protective instincts in him.

She scoffed. “I didn’t need anyone to come to my defense. I broke his nose.” 

Sebastian laughed out loud. Apparently his protective instincts weren’t needed. “Did you really?”

“I did. It might have been a bit of an overreaction.”

“It would have been my inclination as well had I been there. Why is it you like this game again?”

“I thought it had potential, provided you were assigned the right partner. I imagine spending seven minutes in a closet with you, for example, would be rather heavenly.”

“Are you flirting with me Anabel Hawke?” He asked. 

“Apparently not very well if you have to ask.” 

“On the contrary you’re doing very well indeed. So well in fact you’ve successfully distracted me from my original topic. I’m supposed to attend a gallery opening this evening. A few select members of the press will be there. We attend together, give them the opportunity to take some photos and give them your name and the fact you’re a freelance photographer who did some work for the Foundation, acknowledge that yes, we are seeing each other, and that anything beyond that is our own personal business.” 

Prince Sebastian Vael was going to let the world know he was dating Annie Hawke of Lowtown. “You make it sound so simple.”

“If you can control of the flow of information, the battle’s half won. I had my own run-ins with the paparazzi when I was younger, remember.” 

“They had newspapers back then?” She asked feigning great surprise.

Completely unintimidated. He was surprised at how refreshing that was. “Don’t be a brat. Will you come?”

“That depends. Are you going to feed me afterwards?”

“I think I could manage that.” He answered, already thinking of which restaurants she might enjoy.

“Do I get dessert?” She asked.

“The sweetest most sickening dessert on the menu.”

“Then it’s a date. What does one wear to gallery openings in Hightown? Gallery openings down here people generally don’t care what you wear as long as you bring along some booze. I imagine Hightown galleries are a bit more particular and that a bottle of plonk won’t carry much weight if I turn up in cut-off jeans shorts and a tank top.”

Sebastian found himself momentarily distracted by the image. “Most people will be coming straight from work, so business attire should be fine.” 

“Mmm. So a suit and a tie then? I could borrow from Carver.” She suggested.

He found himself smiling again. “You’re a rather sassy young lady, has anyone ever told you that?”

“A surprising number of people actually.” 

“I suspected as much. The dress you wore to photograph the wedding would be fine.”

If Boy hadn’t been sick on it after getting into a box of donuts last night. She really should have hung it up when she’d taken it off. Well, she’d find something. “Shall I meet you at the Gallery?” 

“You wouldn’t mind?” He sounded surprised.

She frowned at the phone. “Why would I mind?” 

“Most of the women I’ve been involved with expect to be picked up for a date.” 

“Seems a silly thing to insist on. Did you really think I’d expect to haul yourself all the way down to here so we could hike back up to your neck of the woods? These Hightown women sound awfully demanding. You should get yourself a nice girl from Lowtown.” 

“I’ve been working on that actually.” 

“And how’s it going?”

“Rather well I think.”

“Well you can tell me all about it tonight. Where is this place anyway?” 

He gave the address, and the time, and they agreed they’d meet inside. 

Sebastian hung up the phone and glanced again at the newspaper. Anabel looked impossibly small and delicate but he couldn’t help noticing how well they seemed to fit together in spite of the difference in their sizes. To his surprise he found he was still smiling. It really wasn’t a bad picture at all. 

 

She was late of course. She’d managed to find something to wear, a dress she’d found in Elegant’s shop a few months ago, made of white silk toile with emerald green roses scattered on it, sleeveless and with a narrow pencil skirt. She hadn’t worn it before because it needed alterations, the hem needed to be shortened of course and a couple of darts put in at her practically nonexistent bust. Luckily Merrill was clever with a needle and had volunteered her services and had ended up doing Annie’s hair as well, pinning it up in an elaborate chignon that she could never have managed on her own.

Annie had slipped into a pair of emerald green stilettos that she’d gotten at a sample sale the previous fall and looked at her reflection and laughed. “I look like a grown up.” A grown up from half a century ago it was true, but a grown up all the same.

“You look beautiful, Annie.” Merrill had said.

Carver had wandered in as Merrill had been finishing up and Annie had glanced at him to get his reaction. 

He’d just shrugged. “You’ll do.” But he’d been smiling. 

She’d stuck her tongue out at him, thanked Merrill again and informed her she was far too good for Carver and should really think about finding someone else. 

Merrill had looked up at Carver with shining eyes. “Oh no. He suits me perfectly.” 

Carver’s arms had tightened around her and he’d given Annie a smug smile that she couldn’t help returning. 

After informing them that they were disgustingly cute together, she’d grabbed a clutch purse and her keys and dashed out of the apartment to find a taxi and that was when her troubles began. There simply were no cabs – not by the market, not by the old foundry. She finally gave up and waited at the bus stop for a bus that didn’t appear, and after twenty minutes there was such a crowd that she doubted she’d even be able to get onto the bus should it turn up. 

She pulled out her cellphone to call Sebastian and let him know she was going to be late only to find it she had no service. That didn’t make any sense. The phone was working, it turned on but when she dialed Sebastian’s number it told her the network wasn’t available. “Oh come on.” She muttered hitting it a few times with the heel of her palm, as if that would fix it. She knew she’d paid the bill, so it couldn’t be that. She tried dialing the number again and got the same message. Network unavailable. _Shit._

The line at the bus stop was only getting longer. She contemplated going back to the apartment but thanks to her little adventure on Saturday no one there had a car to give her lift. Rush hour was in full swing now and the chances of a taxi miraculously appearing were diminishing quickly. _Shit, shit, shit._

She had stepped off the curb to look and see if there was a bus coming and heard the sound of a motorbike behind her and a familiar gravelly deep voice ask. “Annie. Did you need a lift to the apartment?” 

She turned around and there was Fenris on his Vespa (and only Fenris could manage to make a Vespa look quite so macho). Her face lit up. “Actually…”

 

Sebastian had arrived late himself after Petrice had stalked into his office just when he'd been about to leave, to rant about their not using Varnell’s photo of Elthina.

He supposed he couldn’t blame her. He’d been ignoring her calls all morning. He’d politely listened to her ranting about undermining her, being underhanded, going behind her back, and discarding Varnell’s picture just to spite her. He’d let her go on, only stopping her when she mentioned something about Varnell's meeting with a lawyer to sue the Foundation for breach of contract, at which point he informed her that it was in fact Varnell who had breached the terms of the contract by failing to produce a viable photograph, that the contract clearly stated that, and did she really think her boyfriend’s suing the Foundation was going to do anything to help her be appointed CEO when Elthina retired? That had shut her up and she’d muttered something about not forgetting this, and that he’d regret it, and had swept out of his office like the witch in a fairy tale. 

He’d phoned Anabel to let her know he was now running late and his call had gone directly into her voice mail. By the time he reached it, the gallery was already packed. He went through every room of the place, not even noticing the pictures on the walls, saying brief hellos to acquaintances but not stopping to talk to anyone. When he’d made the full circuit he stopped again at the floor to ceiling windows at the front, wondering if she’d misunderstood and was waiting outside. He couldn’t see her from here, but perhaps he should check to be sure.

He’d only just stepped out of the gallery when a Vespa pulled up by the curb, carrying two people: the driver was a man with a shock of white hair with tattoos covering the whole of one arm down to his wrist, wearing a white V-necked t-shirt and close fitting black jeans. A woman was riding sideways behind him, wearing a slim white sleeveless dress with green roses scattered across it. She looked far too elegant for such a mode of transportation. They were a fascinating contrast of styles and they and the Vespa had caught more than one eye. The woman slipped off the back, and with just that movement Sebastian recognized her even before she’d carefully removed the black helmet, revealing her red hair.

He was smiling as he walked over to them. It was an entirely different look for her, elegant chic, but it suited her as well as the others he’d seen on her. There was something almost costume-like about Anabel's clothing choices, not ridiculous or clownish, but as if she were trying on different personas or different roles. He wondered which one was really her or if she hadn’t quite decided yet. Maker knew she was young enough to have that be the case.

She turned and saw Sebastian walking towards them and gave him breathtaking smile. “I’m late I know. All the taxis and public transportation of Kirkwall are working against me. I swear I left the apartment with time to spare; I’ve got witnesses and everything. And then my phone decided to join in with the conspiracy. It claims no network was available, which I know is a bald-faced lie.” 

She only stopped talking when he reached her side and bent to kiss her cheek. “Hello.” He said.

And instantly she was breathless again. “Hello.”

“I’ve only just arrived myself.” He told her. He looked over at her companion, and held out his hand. “Sebastian Vael.”

The man took his hand. “Fenris.” He was striking looking. Not grim exactly, but there was something almost daunting in his appearance. One got the impression just from looking at him that he hadn’t had an easy life. 

“Fenris is the half roommate. I mentioned. He’s a sculptor.”

Fenris had been lighting a cigarette and coughed when he heard the title. “Annie is too generous. I make my living at an auto body shop in Lowtown.” It was said almost defiantly.

“Only for now.” Annie said. “His stuff is wonderful.” She told Sebastian. “He works with reclaimed metal and blowtorches. It’s amazing to watch him working. All that white hot glowing and clanging of metal. I’ve sat there for hours watching him.” 

Fenris didn’t strike Sebastian as someone who let many people watch him work. “It’s not an easy medium.” He commented. He didn’t think Fenris was the sort to want unwarranted praise or a polite interest in seeing his work.

“No.” Fenris agreed. “But it is…satisfying.” He seemed surprised he had said that much and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “I should move on.” 

“Thank you Fenris.” Annie told him, and Sebastian noticed that in spite of her obvious affection for the man she made no move to touch him as she did with almost all of her other friends. “I’ve no doubt if you hadn’t come to my rescue I’d still be waiting at the bus stop by the foundry.” 

“It was no difficulty.” He told her. He put on the helmet Annie had discarded, nodded at Sebastian and drove off.

Annie looked up at Sebastian. “Fenris is uncomfortable around new people.” 

“He’s not from Kirkwall." Sebastian said.

“No. He came here from Tevinter by way of Seheron and a few other places I suspect.” She gave him curious look. “Most people don’t realize that. He doesn’t have an accent.”

“There’s something about the care with which he speaks and his inflection.”

“Yes. He’s absolutely brilliant and entirely self-taught. Very into philosophy and obscure religious texts. He recommends things to me all the time and I’ll read them, not getting half of it and then we have talks about it he runs absolute circles around me but it’s fascinating. You’d like him I think. Don’t let his gruffness put you off. I suspect his life in Tevinter wasn’t easy, but he doesn’t talk much about it.”

“Life in Tevinter isn’t easy for many who aren’t the ruling politicians or the mobsters who support them.” 

“True.” She looked up at him. He looked beautiful, actually but men took that the wrong way. He was wearing charcoal grey three-piece suit, perfectly tailored to his tall frame. “You look very handsome today, have I told you that? Much nicer in a suit than I do. I’m glad I went with the dress instead.” 

“Yes, I think it was the right decision.” His eyes ran over her slender form. “You look beautiful.” 

“I am sorry about not calling you. I don’t know what’s wrong with my phone. It was working fine this morning in the apartment. I went outside and nothing.”

“May I take a look?” She handed it to him and he flipped through the settings. “Here you go. You have the roaming turned off.” He turned it on and handed it back to her.

“I can do that? I wonder if that was the problem out on the Wounded Coast?” She didn’t seem terribly concerned though and simply tossed it back in her purse.

He led her into the gallery and got them each a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, and they strolled through the gallery. Sebastian paused briefly to introduce her to a few people, including the art critic from the Times of Kirkwall, who took careful notes as to who she was. 

“And that should get the ball rolling." He said as they walked away. "There’s probably a photographer from the society pages around somewhere. I’m sure they’ll catch up with us at some point. But for now we can take our time and enjoy the opening.”

“Is there a theme to it?” Annie asked. “Or is it just ‘overpriced art that costs enough to feed a family in Lowtown for a year’?” 

“What a horrible snob you are. I’d think you’d be glad to see artists succeed. And in any case this is actually a show for up and coming artists, hence the turn out. All the rich and wealthy waiting to be told what art they should like.” He put his hand on the small of her back and ushered her into the next space.

She laughed. “You’re as bad as I am.” She took a sip of her champagne. “I hate the idea of art as an investment. Why can’t people buy a picture simply because it gives them pleasure to look at it? Shouldn’t that be enough?” She looked around finding quite a few eyes were on them, though they quickly looked away when they saw she had noticed. She stepped closer to Sebastian. “Is it just me, or are people staring at us?” She said quietly.

He glanced up. “I suspect they’ve realized you’re the girl in the newspaper.” The eyes were on her rather than him though. Before he had time to consider exactly why that might be, he spotted someone across the room. “There’s Elthina.”

Anabel looked up and smiled at the older woman. “Can we say hello?”

“Of course.”

Elthina bent and kissed Annie’s cheek when they reached her. “How lovely that you’re here, Annie. I received your email just before I left the office. They’re quite beautiful.” She glanced up at Sebastian explaining. “Annie emailed me some pictures of the garden she took yesterday.”

“I’m glad – both that you got them and that you liked them. Honestly it would have been hard not to take beautiful pictures of your garden.” 

Elthina was accompanied by an older gentleman with comical grey hair that stuck out in all directions. “This Hiram Plinth, the curator for the Chantry Corporation. Hiram this is Annie Hawke, the photographer I was telling you about.” 

Annie smiled at him. “It’s nice to meet you. I know what a curator at a museum does, but what exactly does a curator for a corporation do?” 

He seemed delighted that she’d asked. “Oh it’s a marvelous job. They give me money and I buy them art for all their office buildings so they seem less like ruthless barbarians concerned only with finances.” 

“That does sound like a sweet gig.” She said with a laugh.

“Oh it is.” He agreed. He was looking at her rather intently and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a pair of wire rimmed glasses, put them on, and peered at her more closely. “Oh yes.” He said turning back to Elthina. “I see what you mean. The resemblance is quite remarkable.”

Annie gave Sebastian a puzzled glance but he seemed just as perplexed by the statement as she was. 

It was Elthina who explained. “It’s the strangest coincidence. There’s a painting hanging in the next room that’s the spitting image of Annie. You simply must see it.”

They followed her into the other room and there, hanging on the wall opposite was a picture of a girl wearing a navy and white sleeveless floral dress. She had a bluebird cupped in her hands and her red hair was unbound and hung down her back past her hips. The girl was younger, and her face a little rounder than Anabel’s but as Hiram had said the resemblance was remarkable. 

Sebastian turned to Anabel to see her reaction. Instead of being surprised she had a half smile on her face. Without looking at any of them, she moved closer to it, stopping just a few feet away and looking up at it. Sebastian came to her side and looked at the painting’s description. 

_Girl with a Bluebird_ , by Thomas Wise

“Annie.” Said a soft voice.

Both Annie and Sebastian turned. There was a thin, slightly balding man standing there. He looked entirely out of place in the chic gallery, and looked uncomfortably aware of that fact. But he was smiling gently at Annie.

“Tomwise.” Annie’s voice was just as soft and she went over and gave him a gentle hug. He wasn’t much bigger than she was. “Oh Tomwise. I haven’t seen you for ages.”

He nodded. “It’s been a while.” He agreed.

“Two years. Almost three, not since I was working for Meeran.“ She turned back to the painting. “It’s beautiful.”

The man smiled. “It’s the subject.”

Annie shook her head. “No. It’s definitely the artist.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and introduced him to Sebastian, and Elthina, and Mr. Plinth, who immediately engaged him in a conversation about his work, both the portrait of Annie, and the others that were on display. 

Sebastian and Annie were left standing by the painting.

“It is you.” Sebastian said.

“Yes. I only ever saw the sketches and a watercolor.” She told him. “Tomwise always said he was going to do it larger in acrylics but we lost touch after I stopped working for Meeran. I’d no idea he’d actually done it.” She was staring at it with slightly disbelieving expression. 

Sebastian glanced at it. “How old were you when it was painted.” 

She thought about it. “About twenty I think. It was just after we’d come to Kirkwall. I look sad.” She said after a moment. She sounded surprised by the fact.

There was a definite wistfulness to the face in the portrait. “Perhaps a little.” He said. “What were you thinking of, do you remember?” 

She sighed though he didn’t think she was aware she had. “Probably Bethany. I spent most of that first year thinking about Bethany. I didn’t realize it showed.” 

Sebastian looked up at it. “It seems wrong to see you sad.”

“I try not to be. It probably makes me seem a bit foolish at times.” She laughed suddenly. “Or perhaps I manage that all on my own.” She reached for his hand and twined her fingers through his and he lifted it to his lips. She leaned against his shoulder still looking at the painting. “Isn’t it strange that it should be here tonight?”

“It is. But I rather like coincidences like that.” 

She looked up at him and gave him a genuine smile, one that almost took his breath away. “So do I.” She said. 

A flash suddenly went off in front of them and they both blinked in surprise. 

“That was lovely, Miss Hawke, Your Highness. Now if we could just get one over here, with you both on either side of the painting.”

Anabel gave him confused look and he gave her resigned smile in return. “Anabel this is Colinda Sorella, one of the reporters for the society page of the Times.” 

The next hour or so passed in bit of a whirlwind. There were more pictures with the painting, and with Tomwise, some with Sebastian, some without. And then of course everyone wanted to meet Anabel and the artist and admire the painting. Sebastian felt as if he’d barely had any time at all with her. 

She’d retreated to the ladies' room and he’d taken advantage of the time to speak briefly to the owner of the gallery and she still hadn’t returned from there when he was done. 

He ended up cornered by Dulcie De Launcet and her husband Guillaume. Ten minutes later he was still stuck there, conversing politely, all the while searching the crowd for a glimpse of Anabel’s bright hair. He’d just made up his mind to go looking for her when his cellphone chimed with a text notification. “Excuse me.” He said and pulled out his phone. It was Anabel. 

_Hey. You busy right now?_

He had to hide a smile before he looked at the de Launcets. “I’m so sorry, I’m afraid I need to answer this. It’s been lovely seeing you both.”

He turned away almost sooner than was strictly polite and typed his reply.

 _I’m waiting for my girlfriend actually. I suspect she’s gotten lost._ He hit send.

After a moment the phone chimed again.

_That’s tiresome of her. Guess where I am?_

He smiled. _I’m almost afraid to ask._

_I’m in a closet._

He almost laughed out loud. _Any particular reason?_ He typed.

_It’s nice closet. Quite roomy. Off the beaten path. And inexplicably the door has a lock on the inside…_

There was brief pause and then another text came through.  
 _I don’t suppose that fancy watch of yours has a timer, does it?”_

He was already moving to the back rooms of the gallery. _It does actually,_ he texted. He looked around trying to decide the most likely location of a storage closet. The phone chimed again.

_Oh good. Set it for seven minutes but don’t start it yet._

He did laugh out loud this time. _Why am I doing this?_ He typed, already suspecting the answer. As he waited for her response he set the timer on his watch to seven minutes.

_I’m putting my theory to the test. The closet’s just around the corner and down the hall from the kitchen._

 

Anabel hit send and stood there wondering if the idea had been a horrible mistake. The fact that there was no immediate reply to her text would seem to indicate it had been.

The door to the closet opened suddenly and Sebastian walked in, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. He stood there for a minute watching her in a way that made her heart race and then he lifted his hand and turned off the light. 

As she stood there blinking, waiting for her eyes to adjust she heard the lock turn.

 _Oh my._ “Start the timer.” She said, and Maker what was wrong with her voice? It sounded at least an octave lower than she normally did.

“So what now?” He asked walking towards her. She could dimly see his silhouette from the light coming in from through the small frosted glass window in the door.

She ran her tongue over her lips. “No idea.” For some reason she found herself backing up. 

“You said you’d played this game before.” He said.

She hit the shelves on the wall behind her. “Well if you wanted to follow that example you’d give me a slobbery kiss that mostly missed my mouth, shove your tongue halfway down my throat and grab my left boob, and then I’d break your nose. I think we should try something different as I’m growing rather fond of that nose of yours.” Andraste’s granny-pants she sounded like an idiot. “You’re a man of the world. Surely you can think of something.” That was a little smoother at least. 

He could actually. Several things, none of which he’d ever considered doing in the closet of a Hightown gallery. He wondered just how far he could take this. 

He slipped his hands carefully around her waist. 

When she looked up there was a gleam in his eyes that she could see even in the dim light. She couldn’t think of another way to describe it. She swallowed nervously. “We could take inventory I suppose.”

“No.” He said, bending his head to kiss her lightly. He let his lips travel to her jaw and then to the sensitive skin below her ear. 

His tongue brushed over that spot, and his breath was hot against her skin and she couldn’t help a small shiver. “I saw some post it notes. We could help ourselves. I’m always running out.”

His mouth moved down her neck pausing to nibble at the spot where her neck met her shoulder. “I’ve unlimited supply, actually.” His hand came up to the strap of her dress and he slipped it just off her shoulder. She wasn’t wearing a bra and the realization made things tighten unexpectedly. Her skin seemed to glow in the dim light. He raked his teeth along the spot where a bra strap would be and she let out a small sound. 

Dear Maker he wanted to hear that sound again. 

He brushed his hand over her bare shoulder and then let his fingers trail down, following the V neckline of the dress. It went lower then he’d though it did, and with the dress slipped off her shoulder he could follow the gentle swell of her breast. He heard her breathe in sharply and couldn’t help the smile that curved his lips.

“You’re quite sensitive.” He whispered. 

He sounded far too pleased to himself, Annie thought. Him with his feather light touches and firm lips and hot breath. “Yes. Well you would be too if you were me.”

That didn’t even make any sense. 

She heard him laugh low, a laugh that made her shiver. “You know what I mean.” She told him.

“I’m not entirely certain I do.” He slipped his finger under the strap of the dress and put it back on her shoulder but before she had time to be disappointed his lips were on her neck again. 

“You’re all bundled up in your expensive suit. And you’re far too tall. There’s nothing I can reach to…” His hand was still on her shoulder and she smiled suddenly and reached for his hand. “Did anyone ever tell you you had beautiful hands?” She asked. She pressed her palm to his so his hand was open now.

“I can't say that they d…” His voice broke off as she slipped her lips around his finger and sucked gently. 

_Bride of the Maker._ He thought as she raked her teeth along the tip before sliding it all the way into her mouth and sucking harder.

His other hand went up to grip the shelf above her head.

She pulled it slowly out, licking and swirling her tongue against it until only the first knuckle remained in her mouth and then her tongue began a teasing flicking movement before sucking hard again. 

“Anabel.” he wasn’t quite certain if he was pleading or warning. 

She looked up at him with those remarkable eyes, his finger still in her mouth, her cheeks slightly hollowed from the suction, and slowly let it slip from her lips, releasing it with a soft popping sound. 

He could only stand there, literally throbbing with need, staring at her in astonishment.

Her mouth curved into a smile and he could see her dimple at the corner of her mouth. “What do you know? You’re quite sensitive as well.” 

And what could he do then but grab her face between his hands and kiss her to within an inch of her life, and what could she do but kiss him back just as passionately?

They barely heard the timer going off. It was only when a voice outside the door asked, “What’s that beeping noise?”, that Sebastian lifted his head. He let go of Anabel and quickly shut off the timer.

“I don’t hear any beeping.”

They both held their breath and after a moment whoever had been outside the door left.

When Sebastian looked back at her she was smiling triumphantly up at him. “What did I tell you? Heavenly.”

 

After straightening themselves up and making sure the corridor was clear they returned to the gallery. The crowd had thinned somewhat and as they passed the room where the painting was she tugged his hand. 

“One last look.” She told him. When they reached the painting her face fell. She was staring at an orange ‘sold’ sticker in dismay. “Someone’s bought it.” She said in surprise.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it? For your friend I mean.”

“Yes.” She said reluctantly, frowning at the sticker. “It just seems weird. I’m going to be hanging in some stranger’s house. And they’ll be staring at me.” 

“They’ll be thinking you’re beautiful. And thinking how worth it the purchase was.” 

“I suppose.” She said still frowning.

“Come. Let me take you to dinner.” He coaxed. She let him lead her from the room, and he glanced back at the portrait and smiled. The pictures would remain on display at the gallery for six weeks, and then be delivered to the owners. 

He knew exactly where he wanted to hang it.

 

An hour and a half later he was drinking an espresso and watching as Anabel devoured the last remnants of a piece of twelve-layer chocolate cake. “I was wondering if you’d like to come to my beach house this weekend.” 

She looked up at him in surprise. 

“Purely as a guest, of course. There are several bedrooms you could use. I’d just enjoy spending the time with you.”

She caught her lip between her teeth and gave him an appraising look. “What if I wanted to share yours?” She asked him, with a tilt of her head. 

He couldn’t help smiling. “Then I would remind you that you’d still have six weeks of healing to do.”

She couldn’t help being disappointed. “Oh.”

“And then I’d ask you which side of the bed you prefer to sleep on.” 

She blushed, but her lips curved into a satisfied smile, which vanished suddenly. “Shit, I can’t. I’ve got a wedding this weekend.”

“To photograph?” He asked.

“No, to attend. A friend of ours is getting married Sunday afternoon and we’re having the reception at the Hanged Man.”

“We could leave Friday night and come back early Sunday morning.” He suggested.

“I can’t. I’m the maid of honor there’s rehearsal dinner and all that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.” He assured but he was surprised at how disappointed he was.

“Unless…” She started to say. 

He gave her a quizzical look. 

“You could be my date?” 

He smiled in agreement. “I could be your date.” He agreed.

She smiled happily. “I’ll call the bride when I get home and let her know.” She had a moment’s worry thinking about Aveline’s reaction to her dating Sebastian. She’d be horrified at the age difference. Distrustful of his wealth. And appalled at how fast the relationship was moving. But she didn’t have to tell her all that, did she? She could just say she’d met someone and was bringing him as her guest. Surely Aveline would be too distracted by the wedding plans to give her the third degree. 

 

It was barely nine o’clock the next morning when Sebastian’s secretary rang him on the intercom. 

“Captain Aveline Vallen, of the City Guard is here and asking to speak you.”

Sebastian frowned. Why on Thedas would the police want to speak with him? And why did that name sound familiar? “Does she say what it’s pertaining to?” 

There was a brief pause before his secretary returned to the phone. “She says it’s regarding a personal matter, but that it shouldn’t take long.” 

He glanced at his watch. He had about a quarter of an hour before his next meeting. “Send her in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [A Happy Accident photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/a+happy+accident)


	9. Breakfast with Anders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian meets Aveline, and Annie and Anders converse while sharing breakfast, covering a variety of subjects including art, artists, moustaches, porn and clowns.

Sebastian’s secretary knocked and opened the door to his office. “Guard Captain Vallen.” She announced. She stepped aside to let the Guard Captain in and then left, closing the door behind her again.

Sebastian looked up from his computer. 

The Guard Captain was an imposing figure: handsome rather than beautiful, with high cheekbones, a strong jaw and chin, and a determined expression. Sebastian’s first thought looking at her was that she must absolutely terrify new recruits. Everything about her seemed to indicate strength and purpose, and it wasn’t merely physical strength he was thinking of, but strength of will. 

Close to six feet tall, with red hair severely scraped back from her face, and her captain’s hat firmly on her head, she strode across the room as if marching to battle.

Ex-military, he thought. Sometimes you could just tell. 

She was wearing the guardsman’s uniform, not civilian clothes, and not the more elaborate uniform of the Guard Captain, which was interesting. Jevan, the man who’d previously held the post, had made a point of wearing only civilian clothes, designer suits usually, as if to differentiate himself from the others in the guard. Aveline Vallen was apparently a different sort of Captain and seeing that her predecessor was now serving time for accepting bribes, embezzlement, and endangering the lives and welfare of his men, Sebastian could only view that as a good thing. 

He stood as she approached the desk, holding out his hand. “Captain Vallen. Sebastian Vael. How may I be of assistance?”

She ignored the hand and gave him a look that was actually hostile. “You can tell me what a man of your age and position is doing sniffing around a child like Annie Hawke.” She informed him. 

He let his hand drop to his side. “Well, that was certainly direct.” He said dryly. He looked at her for a moment and then crossed to a sideboard where coffee was set out. “Can I offer you a cup of coffee?” He asked without looking at her. He kept his tone deliberately casual.

“You can answer the question.” She responded forcefully. 

Sebastian carefully poured himself a cup. “I intend to. However, since Anabel is twenty-two years old, and over the legal age of consent, my relationship with her has nothing to do with legalities, and is most certainly not a police matter. I'm assuming that your concern stems from the fact you are a friend of hers and therefore any conversation we have about her should be a friendly one rather than an interrogation. As such, I'm offering you a cup of coffee while we speak. How do you take it? Cream? Sugar?” He asked, turning back to face her.

She gave him an appraising look and after a moment reached up and took off her captain’s hat. She’d jammed it down so tightly that the interior band had left an imprint across her forehead which made it look as if she were wearing some sort of braided headband. In spite of that, or perhaps because of it, she looked less fearsome and seemed to have relaxed, at least a bit. 

“Black.” She told him. “And call me Aveline.”

 

Their conversation lasted about twenty minutes and both parties were satisfied when they parted ways. 

Sebastian sat at his desk, considering all he’d just learned about Miss Anabel Hawke.

She was proving to be even more extraordinary than he had thought, something that prior to his meeting with the Guard Captain he wouldn’t have thought was even possible. Kind hearted, giving, charming, intelligent, artistic, and as if those weren’t gifts enough for one person, breathtakingly beautiful. He felt an unfamiliar pang and realized to his astonishment that he was missing her though they’d been apart less than twelve hours.

It was absurd. Adolescent in the extreme. And entirely true. 

It seemed impossible that three days ago he hadn’t known of her existence. 

If she hadn’t gotten lost, if he hadn’t decided to go back to the city early, if, he thought with a smile, she weren’t such an appalling driver, would he ever have met her? Perhaps at some soiree thrown by her mother?

No. Probably not. He would have worked hard to come up with some excuse not to attend and Anabel had as little as possible to do with her mother’s world.

But through whatever you wished to call it -- fate, or luck, or divine providence -- he had met her, and he was rapidly becoming a fool for her.

He wanted to spend every moment with her, waking and sleeping. He wanted to shower her with gifts, with flowers, and jewelry, to whisk her away for romantic trips to Val Royeaux and Antiva City and Rivain.

Sanity prevailed. He had sent her flowers only two days ago, the sort of jewelry she deserved was entirely inappropriate at this stage of their relationship, and after knowing her for only three days, whisking her away to foreign countries might well be viewed as abduction.

Candy perhaps? She certainly had a sweet tooth. Perhaps something exotic that she might not have tasted before. There was that Antivan confectionary that had just opened off the Plaza, perhaps they would have something that would suit. He scrawled ‘chocolates’ on a post-it note to remind himself and then stopped. His mouth curved into a pleased smile. 

He knew exactly what to send her. 

 

Anders looked up from his coffee and toast as Annie wandered into the kitchen, clad in only a pair of Superman themed boxer shorts and an ancient t-shirt that was a souvenir from a Friends of Red Jenny concert she’d attended when she was a teenager back in Ferelden. 

“Back when it was the first Red Jenny, and the band was still good.” She’d told him when he’d asked about it once. Apparently there had been three or four Red Jenny’s since then. In spite of Annie’s valiant attempts to educate him on the differences between them, they had all sounded the same to him: angry, slightly shrill, screeching about how the older generation in general, and men in particular had ruined everything and how they (the Friends of Red Jenny?) weren’t going to stand for it anymore. He’d be perfectly happy to never hear one of their songs again, and truthfully Annie hadn’t been listening to them much lately. All that remained was the ancient t-shirt, faded, shrunken, the printed list of cities on that particular tour barely legible now.

She drifted over to the coffee maker without speaking, reaching for a mug. Her hair was in a single braid down her back, or probably had been when she’d gone to sleep last night; one could still see the basic structure though about half of her hair had come free from it. Her eyes were only half open. 

She should have looked ridiculous but she looked beautiful. Of course Annie Hawke always looked beautiful, but the last few days she’d looked particularly so and Anders wasn’t quite certain why that was the case. Was it Vael’s sudden appearance in their lives? Was it that someone else was wanted to play with his toy now?

Maker, was he that pathetic? 

He watched as she poured herself some coffee, adding far too much cream and sugar, as she always did, took a long swallow and then sighed happily before moving to the table and pressing a kiss on the top of his head. 

“Morning.” She slid into the seat beside him and helped herself to a piece of his toast. “Where’s everyone else?” She asked after she’d swallowed a bite.

“Carver and Merrill are at classes, and Isabela made a new friend and stayed at his place last night.” His nostrils flared with annoyance and Annie hid a smile.

“She texted you again?” 

“Yes.” He said flatly. Isabela frequently stayed out all night, and occasionally for longer than that. After one occasion when she’d been gone for three days and Annie had been so worried that she’d actually involved Aveline, Anders had read her the riot act after she’d simply wandered into the apartment with a suntan and a new hat, announcing she’d gone to Par Vollen on a whim. She was living with other people now, he’d shouted, people who for some reason cared for her and were concerned when she seemingly disappeared off the face of Thedas, and the least she could do was at least send them a text letting them know she was alive. To his surprise Isabela had apologized and agreed that she would do so.

And now whenever she was out overnight or longer he received a text telling him just that, and it was always accompanied by a photograph of her companion for the evening, or to be more precise, certain anatomical features of her companion. The texts were usually along the lines of _Not going to make it home tonight but you can see why._

Annie was grinning at him. “Dick pic?” She asked.

“Yes.” He said. “And stop laughing. It isn’t funny.”

“Oh, it’s a little bit funny.”

He ignored the comment and handed her the Arts and Leisure section of the Times. “You’ve made the paper again.” He informed her. “Is this going to be a daily occurrence now that Sebastian Vael is in our lives?” 

Annie unfolded it, smiling at the color picture on the front page of her and Sebastian standing in front of Tomwise’s painting. They looked positively starry-eyed, as if they were in a musical comedy and were just moments away from bursting into a ridiculously over the top duet. She read what was on the front page and then flipped to the inside where it continued. “Look!” She said excitedly shoving the paper in at Anders. “They put in the picture with Tomwise as well. That’s fantastic press for him!” She murmured as she began reading again.

“That’s the artist?” Anders asked.

“Mmmm.” She confirmed. She took another bite of toast and then got up, opened the refrigerator and retrieved a jar of jam and a spoon from the dishrack. She returned to the table and added jam to the toast, spreading it around with the back of the spoon before taking another bite. 

“When did you work as an artist’s model?” Anders asked. With its relatively cheap rents, Lowtown was something of an artist’s haven, and Annie knew most of them by name, but while there were almost a dozen paintings and sketches, mostly nudes, of Isabela around the apartment, he’d never heard it mentioned that Annie had ever posed.

“What? Oh, ages ago. The first year we came to Kirkwall. Tomwise was doing some work for Meeran – I’m not sure what – and he asked if I would.” 

“I suppose you needed the money?” Anders suggested.

“No. Well, yes, of course I needed money, I always seem to need money, but I couldn’t let him pay me. He needed money more than I did at the time. He was talking about giving up painting and going to work as a clerk in an office.” She gave a small shudder, as if it were a fate worse than death. “I couldn’t turn him down.” 

Anders mentally rolled his eyes. Of course she couldn't. “Please tell me Carver went with you at least.”

She gave a small snort. “Yes, because having Carver hang around an artist’s studio for hours at a time would be so conducive to creativity. It was fine. Tomwise wouldn’t hurt a fly.” 

“I live in constant awe that you’ve survived this long.” Anders told her as he stood up from the table.

“That seems to be a popular sentiment these days.” She said looking up at him. She blinked and then frowned. “You’re wearing a suit.”

Anders looked at his watch “Twelve and a half minutes it took you to notice.” 

“You never wear a suit.” He’d even forgone his ponytail, though, thank the Maker, he hadn’t actually cut his hair, though he had styled it. She suspected there might have been blow drying involved. Perhaps even product. He looked, well, professional for lack of a better word. “What’s the occasion?” She asked. 

Anders scowled. “The powers that be are visiting the clinic today to talk about ‘exciting changes’ that are coming in the next few months.”

Annie took another sip of her coffee. “And yet you don’t seem very excited.”

“Yes, well I’ve discovered when management starts talking about ‘exciting changes’ it invariably means I lose half my support staff while being expected to see twice as many patients.”

“Well you look beautiful. Very professional. I didn’t even know you still owned a suit.” 

“I held on to a few.” He’d had a whole closet full at one point in his life, all lined up by color, in a walk in closet that might have been bigger than his current bedroom. He couldn’t quite remember why that had seemed so important at the time. “Stroud is all about looking ‘professional’. It was practically his mantra when I met him back in Ferelden. He’ll be unable to resist making some crack about my hair, but fuck it, he’s not one to talk. He’s got the most ludicrous moustache I’ve ever seen. It would seem over the top on a porn star.” 

Annie raised an eyebrow. “I hadn’t realized pornstars were known for their ludicrous moustaches.” 

“You’ve never noticed it?”

“No, but then I’ve never actually seen a porno.” She admitted. 

Anders mouth twitched. “A ‘porno’?”

She looked puzzled. “Isn’t that what they’re called?”

“Not by anyone under the age of 80.”

“Oh.” She frowned and then shrugged. “There are such gaps in my knowledge. What are they called, then? ‘Pornography’ seems a tad formal given the apparent prevalence of ludicrous moustaches.”

“I believe simply ‘porn’ is the accepted term.”

“Porn.” She repeated as if trying the word on for size. “I keep meaning to see one just to see what all the fuss is about, but I don’t have the faintest idea where to start and I don’t dare pick blindly. I’ve seen some very peculiar things on tumblr, and some that were downright disturbing even in a three second gif. Imagine if I ended up with a whole movie of that sort. I’d go running for the eye bleach.” She gave him a considering look. “Which are your favorites?” 

He was actually speechless for a moment. “Did you honestly just ask me for porn recommendations?”

She laughed that rich low laugh of hers that had always sounded just a little dirty, and seemed even dirtier right now. “I suppose I did.”

“And this isn’t a question better suited to Isabela?” 

She’d finished the toast and was now eating a spoonful of jam directly from the jar. “I think I’d prefer your choices. Isabela’s sexual tastes are a bit… _avant garde_ for me. You’re choices would at least be fun.”

Anders gave a small snort. “Fun? You think the porn I watch has clowns packed into a small automobile or something?” And he’d just admitted to her that he did in fact watch porn. Marvelous. He reached over and took the jam away from her before she could take a second spoonful, carefully screwing the lid back on. “How is it your teeth haven’t simply rotted in your head?” He asked her. 

“Lots of milk when I was a child." She said absently. "No, I didn’t mean clowns, though that has put some bizarre images into my brain now. I just thought the ones you watched might have couples who seemed, I don’t know...to like each other. Who seem happy that they’re having sex instead of doing all that grunting and screaming and running commentary of what they’re doing to each other in the crudest terms possible. Ones with perhaps even hint of a plot. Is there in fact any pornography like that?” 

He put the jam back in the fridge. “I am not recommending porn for you. Ask your boyfriend if you want recommendations.”

She frowned. “I don’t think Sebastian watches pornography. He doesn’t seem the type.”

“And I do? Thank you so much.” 

“You know I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that he wouldn't need the stuff. He’s been with all these gorgeous super models and sophisticated glamazons that you just know have whole repertoires of sexual gymnastics, whereas you….” Annie’s voice trailed off as she realized where her comment was heading.

Anders raised an eyebrow. “Whereas I?”

She grinned suddenly, flashing her dimple. “Whereas you…haven’t.”

“As if I needed the reminder.” Suddenly he understood what had inspired this obsession with pornography. “Hold on, is that what this is about? Sebastian Vael?”

“No!” She insisted and in the next breath added. “Maybe.” She groaned and covered her face with her hands. “Yes.” She peeked at him through her fingers. “What if I’m not sophisticated enough for him?” She said in a rush. “What if I bore him to tears in bed?” 

_Not bloody likely_. “I don’t see that happening.” He stood and picked up his dishes.

She dropped her hands from her face and followed him to the sink. “What if I can’t think of anything to do? What if I just lie there sprawled in his bed like some kind of salmon?” 

The image of her naked on Sebastian Vael’s bed with her red hair spread around her instantly sprang into his mind and she was anything but salmon-like. Please let her change the subject soon. “You’re an imaginative girl. I’m sure you’ll be able to come up with something. “

“What if I can’t though?” She persisted.

Andraste’s tits, how had he ended up in this position. “If you can’t I’m sure Sebastian will manage to come up with a few things on his own.” The prat. He walked into the living room and she trailed after him like a puppy.

“But won’t that be tedious for him? Won’t he find that incredibly dull?”

Anders gave a short laugh. “No.” He said flatly.

“You’re sure?” She asked anxiously.

If this was an indication of how the rest of his day was going to go he was sorely tempted to go upstairs and climb back into bed. He was saved from having to reply when the apartment’s intercom buzzed next to him, startling them both. He pushed the button. “Yes?” 

“I’ve got a delivery for Anabel Hawke.”

He and Annie both exchanged a puzzled look and then her face lit up. She pushed his hand out of the way. 

“Come on up.” She pressed the buzzer for the outer door without even waiting for a reply and then ran to the front door pulling it open. 

“What am I missing? “ Anders called after her.

“It’s from Sebastian.” She said over her shoulder. “No one else calls me Anabel except my mother and she never sends me anything.” 

He quickly crossed to the open door. “Inside. I’ll sign for it. You aren’t dressed.”

She scowled at him. “I’m dressed.”

“Clothing purchased in the boys underwear department doesn’t count. Inside. I’ll get the package. “ 

He signed for the package, a good sized and surprisingly heavy box and ignoring Annie’s trying to take it from him carried it over to the coffee table. 

He watched as she ripped off the tape and eagerly pushed the flaps open.

It was filled to the brim with post it notes: every size, every color, every variety, notes, pads, page markers. Anders frowned. _What the…._

But Annie had started laughing in sheer delight. She plunged her hands into the box, lifting double handfuls of the cellophane wrapped packets and then letting them fall again with as much pleasure as if they’d been jewels in a treasure chest. 

“I’m assuming there’s a private message I’m missing here?” Anders asked.

She had a positively blissful smile on her face. “I mentioned I was always running out last night when we….” Her cheeks turned pink and voice trailed off. “I can’t believe he remembered something I said in the middle of…” Her voice trailed off again and her cheeks turned an even deeper pink.

Anders made a non-committal noise and picked up the canvas messenger bag that he carried these days, briefly regretting the ceremonial burning of his ridiculously overpriced Antivan leather attaché case when he’d made the decision to quit being a lawyer. “I’m off. Wish me luck.” He added when she didn’t say anything.

She looked up as if she’d only just remembered he was there and smiled. “Good luck. If Mr. Ridiculous Moustache acts up, just picture him starring in your favorite porno…porn.” She quickly corrected.

He shuddered at the thought. “Yes, that image won’t help in the slightest.” 

“Here.” She said, slipping a pad of shocking pink post-it’s into the chest pocket of his jacket. “For luck. You never know when you might need them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, soon to be followed by others. I think part of what was holding me up (other than the release of Inquisition) was that I was trying to cram too much into the chapters. So the next few will be shorter, but quicker. Thank you to everyone for your patience.
> 
> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [A Happy Accident photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/a+happy+accident)


	10. The Chapter Before the Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some phone calls, a confrontation, and a brief encounter with a determined photographer as Annie tries to finalize plans for Aveline's wedding.

Sebastian’s meeting seemed to drag on forever. Thoughts of Anabel kept popping into his head and he’d had to force himself to focus and on one occasion had to ask someone to repeat what they had just said, something that never happened. 

“Any messages?” He asked his secretary as soon as he returned to his office.

“Yes. Mrs. Chantry phoned and asked that you call her when you get a chance, but said it’s nothing urgent. William called from the vineyard and says he needs to speak with you as soon as possible. And Miss Hawke phoned an hour ago to tell you she’d received your package.” 

He couldn’t keep from smiling. “Did she say anything else?” 

“Miss Hawke? Yes.” Leora turned to her computer and pulled up the message. “She said I was to ask you if you were aware of what a serious drain petty theft of office supplies is on the annual revenue of larger corporations in the Free Marches. She said she’s printed out several articles on the subject and marked the relevant passages with post it notes and wanted to set up a meeting to discuss it with you at your earliest convenience. I informed her you would be out of town for the rest of the week but she was quite insistent.” Leora said, looking up at Sebastian with a small vaguely disapproving frown. “Would you like me to get her on the phone?”

Leora was a superb secretary, older, no nonsense, ruthlessly organized and efficient and had been his secretary for seven years. The only flaw Sebastian had ever found in her was that she was almost entirely devoid of a sense of humor. 

“No. I’ll take care of it.” He said walking to his office. “Hold my calls.” He closed the door behind him and quickly dialed Anabel’s number. It barely rang before she came on the line.

“Anabel Hawke Photography and Post It Note Emporium. If you need to post we’ve got the notes.”

He tossed the papers from the meeting onto his desk and sank into his leather chair turning it so he was facing the window behind the desk. “And how long did it take you to come up with that?”

Annie quickly saved what she’d been working on. “Hardly any time at all.” She informed him. “I was obviously inspired by the plethora of post it notes surrounding me.”

“So, you got my package?”

“I did. I’ve labeled everything in the kitchen and left messages for all my roommates. Are there in fact any post-it notes left at the Chantry Corporation? I hardly feel worthy of such a bounty.” 

He looked out at the panorama of Kirkwall spread out before him. She was somewhere down there and just that thought brought him more pleasure than he would have thought possible. “Well, you had mentioned you were always running short of them.” He reminded her. 

“Oh, I am.” She assured him. “I’m just unaccustomed to having my needs so instantly fulfilled.” 

“I’m very sorry to hear that.” He said in that smooth as butterscotch voice. “Please know that it’s my intention going forwards to ensure that your needs are always instantly fulfilled.” 

Anabel stared at the phone in her hand. Had he just… No. He couldn’t have meant…. He was far too proper to have…

Wasn’t he? 

“Anabel?”

She suddenly realized she hadn’t replied to his statement and she quickly put the phone back to her ear. “Yes, I’m here. Sorry. I was trying to decide if there was a hidden meaning in what you just said.”

His mouth curved into a smile and he pretended to not know what she was talking about. “Hidden meaning?”

“If you meant…” Her voice trailed off. “Never mind. Apparently I’ve got a dirty mind. Sorry.”

“You mean was I trying to tell you that I intended to fulfill your sexual needs in addition to your need for miscellaneous paper goods?” His voice was pitched lower and was it just that Starkhaven burr that made it sound as if he was purring? 

_Say something! Something sophisticated and clever and filled with promising innuendo._

“Uh…’ She somehow resisted the urge to smack herself on the forehead. 

_Oh yeah. That’ll reel him in._

Sebastian appeared not to have noticed. “That’s exactly what I meant – provided that’s something that might interest you, of course?” In spite of the purr, his voice was as polite as if he were offering her a choice of desserts at dinner. 

Her brain was immediately flooded with a series of images involving whipped cream and chocolate sauce, a great deal of bare skin and some rather intriguingly placed maraschino cherries. 

The apartment seemed unaccountably warm all of a sudden. 

“Is everything all right?” Sebastian asked and she could hear the smile in his voice.

“Yes, yes.” She hastened to assure him. _Sweet Andraste, yes_. “That sounds quite interesting.” She said proud of how nonchalant she managed to sound. She groped for the can of soda she’d been drinking and instead knocked it over. “Shit.” She whisked her computer out of the way just in time, but dropped her cell phone on the floor when she did.

The loud thunk made Sebastian momentarily pull the phone away from his ear. “Anabel? Are you all right?” 

When she answered her voice sounded far away. “Hold on a sec, I dropped the phone.” 

He heard some scrambling, what sounded a chair being moved, and a few more curses interspersed with laughter this time before she came back on the phone, still laughing.

“Sorry. I knocked over my drink and had to keep everything from being doused by cola and the phone went flying. I can’t really bend over because of my ribs so I had to get a bit creative to pick it up.” She’d ended up propping herself up on the seat of the chair and grabbing the phone with a pair of salad tongs, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. 

“You’re all right though?” He asked, and the concern in his voice made her smile. 

“It would serve you right if I weren’t.” She told him. “You’re a bit of a tease, Sebastian Vael. I would never have guessed it. You seemed so proper and serious when we met.”

He leaned back in his chair, smiling again. “I assure you, Anabel Hawke, fulfilling your needs is something I’m quite serious about.” 

“Sweet Maker, you’re smooth.” Oh, she was so out of her league with this man she thought yet again, but was that necessarily a bad thing? She couldn’t quite decide. She picked up her soda to take a drink only to remember it was empty. “Have you really thought about it?” She asked curiously as she put it back down.

“I have.” Sebastian admitted readily. “I’m fervently hoping that no one asks me any questions about the meeting I was just had, because I paid it remarkably little attention. Most of it was spent thinking of you and your needs.” 

“Oh.” That ridiculous grin was back on her face and her heart was fluttering in a not at all unpleasant way. “Anything in particular?” 

He found he was running his finger in a small circular design on the arm of his chair. “Nothing too specific yet. I was considering what you might like. What I might like. Contemplating how closely the two will pair up.” His voice was low and soft, and went over her like a caress. 

_Will pair up. Not if, not would. Will._

She tried to think of an appropriate response, and failed. All her brain could come up with was “Yay!” and she was so afraid that she’d say it out loud if she tried to speak that for a moment she didn’t say anything at all.

“Are you still there, Anabel?” Sebastian asked.

When she could finally speak her voice came out sounding strangely husky. ““Uh-huh. I was just picturing… Thinking of…” She laughed suddenly. “I think you’ve rendered me speechless.”

She had an amazing laugh: low, and throaty, entirely sincere and entirely seductive and he suspected she had no idea of the latter. It was completely at odds with her delicate appearance. “You _think_ I’ve rendered you speechless?”

She laughed again, and just the sound of it tightened things. “I’m not sure.” She told him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been rendered speechless before.” She said, and she sounded a little breathless.

 _Slowly._ Sebastian told himself. _There’s no need to push or rush things. You’ve only known her three days. She’s all of twenty-two years old. Slowly._ “I didn’t intend to make you uncomfortable.” He told her.

“You didn’t.” She hastened to reassure him. “Well, all right you did, but in a good way. I just couldn’t think of an appropriate response. I did think of several inappropriate ones.” 

“I look forward to hearing them. Tell me what you’re doing right now. Where are you?” He asked, changing the subject.

“At the kitchen table, finishing up with the pictures from Emeric and Mharen’s wedding and eating a cold chocolate pop tart.”

He gave a small shudder. “You have the most atrocious taste in food.”

“And you’re a culinary snob. I’ll bet you’ve never even eaten a pop tart.” She asked.

“I haven’t, actually.” He admitted. Nor did he intend to, but he didn’t tell her that.

She made a tsk-ing noise. “And yet you condemn them out right. They’re marvelous things. Self-contained. Easily portable. Come in a myriad of flavors and they have a shelf life of years, if not decades. You don’t even need to cook them. They taste just as good cold if you’re too lazy to use the toaster.”

“Is it even possible to be too lazy to use a toaster?” He teased.

She laughed. “I’m afraid so. Are you horrified yet?” She asked.

“Not even close to it.” 

“Oh good.” She said, sounding pleased. “Then I can freely tell you that the real reason I don’t toast them is because the last time I used the toaster it caught fire, and now I’m not allowed to use any appliances except the microwave and the refrigerator.” 

“You’re not allowed?”

“Oh it’s for the best.” She assured him. “I’m appallingly bad at cooking and yet I will keep attempting it. My roommates finally held an intervention. Merrill made a banner and everything.”

He tried to decide if she was serious or not, but couldn’t quite. “It’s fortunate I can cook then.” 

“Oh, yes.” She said, her voice serious. “It’s what clinched the deal for me. I mean tall, handsome, charming and an incredibly good kisser will only get you so far.” 

“You mean if I’d been unable to cook that would have ended our relationship? Cruel woman.”

She gave an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose we could have had one of those mad passionate flings. We could have let ourselves be swept away by our most primal and base inclinations for a time, but it would never have lasted. Eventually I’d have gotten hungry and that would have been the end of it. I’d have been forced to leave you for a short order cook called Greasy Eddie who could keep me properly supplied with fries and cheeseburgers and perhaps the occasional strawberry milkshake.“

“A tragedy to be sure, though I think Eddie comes out with the best of the bargain. Have dinner with me tonight.” 

Her cheeks were actually aching from smiling. “Why? Are you going to cook for me finally?”

If anyone of his business associates could see how he’d been grinning like a fool for the duration of this phone call they would probably lose all respect for him. “Finally, she says after only three days' acquaintance. I haven’t even gone to the grocers since I met you, let alone had a chance to plan the sort of meal I want to make for you. I’m saving that for another night. That way I can really wow you.”

She just laughed. “I’ve just confessed that I’m perfectly happy with cold pop tarts. You could probably wow me just by giving me something not served at room temperature.” 

“Ah, but now you’ve planted worries in my head about “Greasy Eddie” and his brazen attempt to steal you away from me. No, not tonight. When I cook for you it’s going to be something that will forever banish the thought of Eddie and his cheeseburgers from your mind. We’ve eaten up here the last two nights. Show me one of your favorite places in Lowtown tonight.” 

She thought about it for a moment. “How do you feel about Rivaini food? I know a place that’s a bit of a dive but the food is fantastic.” 

“I adore Rivaini food and it sounds perfect. I’ll pick you up at your place around seven?”

“Yes.” She said and gave a small sigh. “That seems like hours away.” 

His lips twitched. “Well it is only a quarter past noon now, so technically…”

“You know what I mean.” She told him and then sat up. “Shit. Is it really that late?”

“Do you have to be somewhere?” He asked.

“I’ve got an appointment to finalize the flowers for the wedding at one, and I’m not even dressed or showered yet.” 

“You’re meeting Aveline?”

“Maker, no!” She could only imagine Aveline in a florist shop. “Aveline doesn’t want anything to do with the planning. She didn’t even want a wedding. She and Donnic were planning on running off and having something with two witnesses and a Justice of the Peace but I told her that wouldn’t do. She and Donnic have far too many people who care about them to deprive them of the pleasure of seeing them married.”

“And she agreed just like that?” Given his encounter with the Guard Captain this morning it seemed surprising. “She doesn’t strike me as the sort of woman who would back down so easily.”

“Oh, she isn’t.” Anabel agreed. “I hounded her about it until she gave up and agreed to a small celebration, as long as there was good brandy and she didn’t have to do anything except show up.” 

“You’ve a bit of a bossy streak.” Sebastian commented.

“Nonsense. I’m perfectly lovely as long as I get my own way.” She frowned suddenly. _She doesn’t strike me as the sort of women who would back down easily._ “I didn’t realize you knew Aveline.” 

Sebastian silently cursed his carelessness. “We met fairly recently.” He said vaguely, hoping she would let it drop.

He wasn’t so lucky. There was a moment of silence and then Anabel asked suspiciously. “How recently?” 

 

It was almost two o’clock when Donnic Hendyr knocked on his fiancée’s open door. 

Aveline looked up with a stern expression that immediately softened when she saw who it was.

Donnic held up a brown paper bag and Aveline blinked in surprise. “Is it that late already?” 

Donnic just shook his head. “It’s after two.” He closed the door behind him. “I have ham, and I have roast beef.” He offered.

“Ham.” Aveline said absently, looking at the reports spread out in front of her. “I’m still catching up from this morning.” 

“You’ve got no one but yourself to blame for that.” He said opening the bag and unpacking their lunches. “I’d no idea I was marrying such a busybody.” He ignored the scowl Aveline gave him, pulling up a chair and sitting at the opposite side of the desk. “I’m assuming since you didn’t arrest His Highness on charges of corrupting a minor your talk with him went well?” 

The words had only just left his mouth when the door to the office was pushed open.

“Have you lost your mind?” 

Aveline looked up to see Annie Hawke standing there, looking thoroughly outraged. “One might ask you the same question.” She said calmly, before frowning at the girl’s outfit; a sleeveless top that laced up the front and that Aveline could have sworn was part of the costume she’d worn to last year’s renaissance festival and of a pair of faded denim jeans, so worn and torn and full of holes that they seemed to be mostly held together by a series of vertical white threads. “Do you in fact own a pair of trousers that don’t look like they’ve been run through a lawn mower?” She asked reaching for her sandwich.

“I happen to like my torn trousers.” Annie informed her. “And don’t change the subject. Did you or did you not go to Sebastian Vael’s office this morning to lecture him about dating me?" 

Aveline unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite, chewed it, and swallowed before answering. “I did.”

“You went to his office?” Annie shrieked at her.

“I did. And please don’t raise your voice in my office.” She seemed completely unperturbed by the accusation.

Annie ignored the request. “You know, I’m not a child, Aveline. I don’t need a babysitter. I don’t need a bodyguard, and I certainly don’t need a guardsman, not even the Captain of the Guard herself, to corner a perfectly lovely man, whose only crime is that he wants to date me, and interrogate him in his place of work!” She had to pause to take a breath and when she had she turned to Donnic with a pleasant smile. “Hi Donnic. You’re marrying a madwoman. I hope you realize that.”

Donnic tried to hide his smile. “Hello, Annie.” 

When Annie turned back to her, Aveline was giving her a stern look. “In the space of three days, you’ve been in a car accident, broken two ribs, made the front page of the Kirkwall Gazette and the Times, and somehow ended up ‘dating’, whatever the Void that means, a man considerably older, considerably wealthier and immeasurably more experienced than you, a man once known as one of the most notorious womanizers in all the Free Marches. So forgive me if I disagree. Someone needs to keep an eye on you.” 

Annie scowled. “You make it sounds as if I planned all those things. They just happened. What on Thedas did you even say to him?” 

Aveline unscrewed the cap of her drink and took a sip. “I asked him what his intentions towards you were.” She said calmly. “Do you want my pickle?”

Annie could only goggle at her for a moment. “No, I don’t want your pickle!” She exclaimed. “You actually said that? ‘What are your intentions towards Annie Hawke?’ Those words actually left your mouth? Were we suddenly transported into an Austen novel when I wasn’t looking?”

“Actually I think my exact words were ‘what’s a man like you doing sniffing around a child like Annie Hawke’.” 

Donnic gave a small snort of laughter. 

Annie’s eyes narrowed. “This is your revenge for that whole marigold fiasco isn’t it?” Annie asked.

Aveline’s cheeks turned bright pink and Donnic laughed again, a laugh he quickly turned into a cough this time, when his intended turned her glared to him. “Excuse me. I should get back to my work.” He said, and hastily departed.

Aveline didn’t speak until the door had closed behind him. “I should think you’d be more interest in what his answer was.”

 _Damn it_ Annie thought. No. She would not give Aveline the satisfaction of asking her that. She absolutely refused. “Give me that pickle.” She demanded, holding out her hand. Aveline handed it to her and she took a bite and chewed, hoping the action would diminish the need to know and strengthen her willpower somehow. _Nope_ , she thought as she swallowed. Her willpower was nowhere near that strong. “What did he say?” She asked, giving up. 

“You’ve made quite an impression on him. He seems to genuinely care for you.” Aveline had been frankly, surprised. She prided herself on being able to spot mendacity and the Prince had shown none. His affection for Annie seemed sincere and his concern for her was undeniable. 

Annie had expected Aveline would get defensive and bluster and conclude by reciting a lengthy list of reasons why her getting involved with Sebastian Vael was a terrible idea. But she hadn’t which could only mean one thing. A smile curved her lips. “You liked him.” She said triumphantly. 

Aveline actually squirmed a bit. “I’m reserving final judgment until I’ve known him longer, but yes. I liked him.” 

“You told him about Wesley.” Annie pointed out gently. She’d pestered Sebastian until he’d given her a full accounting of Aveline’s visit and when he’d mentioned that she’d been stunned. Aveline never talked about Wesley, not to anyone.

Aveline’s smile was wistful. “You told him about Bethany.”

To her surprise Annie found herself blinking back tears. She never talked about Bethany either. It hurt too much. But she’d told Sebastian all about her within twelve hours of meeting him. “Yes. I did.” 

Aveline’s eyes began to sting as well. The tears were for Bethany and Wesley and those horrible first few weeks in Kirkwall. Bethany’s funeral and Leandra’s accusations. Wesley’s failure to respond to the new treatment and Annie’s sudden appearance by Aveline’s side, and her constant presence, right up to the awful moment when a well-meaning doctor had asked Aveline whether she wanted to reverse Wesley’s do not resuscitate order. Maker she’d been tempted, so tempted, in spite of the fact the DNR order had been decided on months before, and that it was what Wesley had wanted. He’d been clear about that and she’d agreed. Aveline had looked to Annie for help for an answer, and tears streaming down her face Annie had told her she couldn’t make that decision for her. But she’d stayed by her side until the end, and then handled all the arrangements for the body and the funeral, and afterwards had brought Aveline back to Gamlen’s run down place in Lowtown to stay, so she wouldn’t be alone. 

Aveline had never thanked her for that, not in words anyway, but you didn’t go through something like that without a bond being formed. The Hawkes were her family now. And you looked after your family.

Annie laughed suddenly through her tears and grabbing a napkin from the desk wiped her eyes. “It’s too close to your wedding to be this maudlin.” She announced. She stood and kissed Aveline’s cheek. 

Aveline approved of Sebastian and she wasn’t someone who gave her approval lightly. “I’m off. Your flowers are going to be beautiful by the way. All pink with lots of baby’s breath and curly ribbons.” She laughed at the expression on Aveline’s face. “I’m kidding. No pink and no ribbons, I promise.” She told her. “I’ll see you at the rehearsal dinner. “ She called out as she left.

She exited the building wondering if Aveline would be more angry at the change she'd made to the flowers than should would have been at pink and curly ribbons. No, she decided. She wasn’t going to feel guilty about it. Aveline had definitely crossed the line going to Sebastian’s office and the flowers she was now getting were a small price to pay for it. She had started down the stairs to the street when her cellphone rang. She smiled when she saw who it was.

“Hello, you.” She said, answering it. “What are you doing calling me again so soon? Aren’t you supposed to play hard to get or something like that?”

“I suspect it’s far too late for that.” Sebastian admitted. He heard the sounds of traffic in the background. “Where are you?” 

“Just outside the Keep. I’ve been yelling at Aveline.” She told him happily.

Sebastian let out a small groan. “And am I going to get another visit about that?” He asked. 

“I shouldn’t think so. We worked it all out. Aveline says you like me.” 

She sounded so genuinely delighted that he couldn’t help smiling. “I suspect Aveline may be right. I did have a purpose to my call, though. I’m afraid I have to cancel our plans for this evening.”

Anabel laughed. “Come to your senses have you?” 

“Nowhere close to it. There’s a problem at my vineyard that needs my attention. If I fly out there this afternoon I can spend the night and take care of things in the morning before I’m due in Val Royeaux for my meetings.“

“Oh, that old excuse.” She said airily but his words were a stark reminder of just how different their worlds were. Maybe Aveline was right. Maybe she was falling to hard, too fast, for someone far more worldly and far more experienced. Maybe the differences were too much. Maybe it did have disaster written all over it.

And was she really not going to see him for four whole days? 

“I was hoping I might persuade you to meet me for coffee before I left.” Sebastian continued. 

A pleased smile curved her lips. “You were?” 

“Yes. I find myself unable to bear the thought of not seeing you until Saturday. It’s utterly ridiculous.” He added mostly to himself. 

Or maybe he was falling as well, just as hard and just as fast. She wanted to jump up and down and squeal with delight. “I think it’s kind of wonderful actually.” She said.

Maker help him, so did he. “Will you meet me?” He asked.

“Of course I will. But I’m going to warn you now that if you think my choice of desserts is frightening, my choice of coffee based beverages may well send you screaming.” 

 

Anders was still breathing hard as he rounded the corner and came into sight of the Hanged Man. 

He’d thought a run might clear his head after the disaster of that meeting with Stroud. He’d hoped endorphins might help him see something good in this whole mess. They hadn’t of course, and now in addition to everything else he was dripping with sweat and limping, and was fairly certain he’d pulled a hamstring. He couldn’t help wondering what other gifts this day had in store for him.

As if in answer to his question a black town car pulled up in front of the Hanged Man. The back door on the street side opened and Sebastian bloody Vael stepped out, impeccably dressed in a charcoal grey suit that probably cost enough to feed a family in Darktown for six months. He walked around the car and opened the passenger side door and helped Annie out.

She was wearing one of her odd outfits: a pair of jeans that gave new meaning to the word ‘threadbare’ and the bodice of her renaissance faire costume, a tightly laced top made of black and green brocade that he was certain had been designed to be worn over a shirt not on its own. On its own it seemed far too low cut to wear in public, but the tight lacing would offer support for her broken ribs so he couldn’t truly fault her for that. It also showed how slender she was and the dark colors made her skin look almost translucent. Her bright hair was in a careless braid over her shoulder and she wore a pair of rubber flip-flops on her feet. Standing next to the prince in his custom made suit and Orlesian silk tie she should have looked ridiculous but she looked beautiful. She should have looked out of place, but she didn’t in the slightest. 

She was smiling up at Sebastian with a look that should have been impossible after three days acquaintance and to his surprise Sebastian was returning it.

Love didn’t happen like that outside of fairy tales or bad romance novels. It was beyond naïve to believe otherwise. 

And yet, look at them.

As he watched Sebastian reached down and brushed an escaped curl behind her ear and Annie turned her head, leaning into his touch. 

 

Anabel leaned into his hand and looked up at him with those remarkable eyes and he couldn’t help caressing her cheekbone with his thumb. 

“You are so lovely.” He said softly. 

She couldn’t help laughing. “Even dressed like this?” She asked dubiously. 

“Especially dressed like that.” His eyes ran quickly over her. “You look adorable.” He said with a smile.

She raised an eyebrow. “Adorable in the ‘she’s a fully grown intelligent woman who just happened to forget what she was wearing as she charged across Hightown to have coffee with her boyfriend but who in no way deserves to be patronized or thought of as a child whose cheek you’re about to pinch’ way, right?”

Sebastians eyes twinkled. “I should think that very much depends on which cheek I was considering pinching.” 

She laughed as he slipped his arms around her and as he bent his head to kiss her she went up on her toes to make it easier.

 

Anders was about to turn around and make another lap around the market specifically so he didn’t have to watch them, but he stopped short when he heard a man a few feet in front of him. 

“Oh yeah, that’s it your highness. Plant a good one on her.” He was lifting a camera to his face as he spoke.

 _Andraste’s ass_. Was Vael trying to see if he could get her picture in the paper every day this week? Ignoring the pain in his hamstring, he ran the few step to the man’s side, shouted “Left!” and plowed straight into him.

The camera went flying.

“Sorry!” He said with a grin as the man shouted curses after him. 

Sebastian and Annie seemed unaware of what had transpired and were just breaking off their kiss when Anders limped up to them deliberately standing between them and the would-be photographer. 

“Hi.” Annie said with a smile when she saw him. She was positively starry-eyed.

Sebastian inclined his head. “Anders. It’s good to see you again.”

 _Yeah, right_. “Apparently we’ve got paparazzi staking out the neighborhood. You might want to take itinside.” He said gesturing behind him. 

Sebastian looked up and frowned at the photographer who had given up trying to reattach the lens to his camera and in desperation had pulled out his cellphone and was trying to take pictures with that. 

“I should be going anyway.” Sebastian said. He bent down and kissed Annie’s cheek. “I’ll call you when I get in.” 

“Safe travels.” She said softly, and the two exchanged a look that left Anders feeling like a peeping tom. 

Sebastian got back in the car and it drove off. Annie looked after it until it rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. Only then did she turn to Anders. “Why are you limping?”

“Pulled a hamstring.” Anders told her. He looked past her and saw the photographer was walking towards them with a scowl on his face, his camera in one hand and the apparently broken lens in the other. 

Annie turned to see what he was looking at and immediately looked back at him. 

“Hanged Man.” They said at the same time and they ducked into the bar, rushing past the tables, and into the kitchen hearing Norah tell the man he wasn’t allowed in there as they slipped out the back door and into the alley behind the place. 

“Think he’s still there?” Annie asked.

“Probably.” 

Annie seemed to think about it. “Well, we can either risk going around the front or we can grab an early dinner somewhere.”

“Not Rivaini.” Anders stated flatly. 

“Tapas?” She suggested. “There’s that Antivan place by the university.” 

“No. Tapas are a complete rip-off. The prices seem reasonable but by the time you eat enough to actually feel full you’re paying what a steak dinner in Hightown costs.” 

“We could just grab a pizza and bring it home. By the time it’s ready our friend should be gone. And it’s cheaper.”

“Sounds good.” He agreed. “You seem to be taking being stalked by photographers remarkably in stride.

“That?” She asked. “That was just one guy. It’s not like they’re mobbing me or anything. It’s just a slow news day.” 

Anders doubted that, but there wasn’t any point in arguing it. “So where’s Vael off to?” He asked as they made their way towards the pizza place.

She sighed. “Orlais. We were supposed to have dinner but his vineyard has the Blight.”

Anders stared at her. “His vineyard has the _Blight_? The highly contagious disease that hasn’t been seen in Thedas for oh, about five ages?"

She frowned. “A blight?” She suggested. “A fungus or something. Or maybe it was some kind of insect infestation? Anyway if it does and it spreads, it could wipe out one of the grape varieties he grows.” 

"And that would be bad?"

She shrugged. "Apparently so."

“Speaking of first world problems.” He said with a roll of his eyes.

“Be nice.” Annie told him. “Tell me how your meeting went.”

“Swimmingly.” He informed her. “I’m not getting a OB GYN to help out in the clinic.”

“That sucks.” She said sympathetically.

“And it gets better. I’m getting a nurse-midwife with an affinity for alternative medicine or complimentary medicine, or some such nonsense.” 

“Uh oh.” Anders was firmly of the tried and tested school of medicine. “Which was it, alternative or complimentary?” 

“Is there a difference? She’s some kind of flake who’s going to be talking my patients into roots and berries and tinctures and sticking acupuncture needles into them instead of just giving them a couple of Advil.”

“She does acupuncture?” Asked Annie. “I’ve always wanted to try that!” Her voice trailed of when she saw his expression . “Sorry. Acupuncture bad…very bad.” She corrected. “Is she from here?”

Anders gave a snort. “She’s from Orzammar if you can believe it. She’s probably going to be bringing along statues of the ancestors and poultices made of lichen and moss.”

Annie started laughing. “You are so close-minded about this kind of thing. Is that where she trained?”

“No.” He admitted reluctantly. “She actually trained at Kinloch Hold.” 

“The same place you did, then?” Annie pointed out.

“Yes, but she didn’t get a medical degree. Just a certificate in midwifery.”

“You mean midwifery, the skill that’s been bringing children into the world for roughly a couple of hundred ages?”

He scowled at her as he held open the door to the pizza parlor. “Yes, that thing that used to result in frighteningly high infant and maternal fatality rates.” 

“Because the training for midwives hasn’t changed at all since then.” She said sarcastically. “What kind do you want?” She asked as they stepped up to the counter. 

“Mushroom.” 

“One extra large, half mushroom and half pinapple and hot peppers.” She ordered. 

The man at the register gave a small shudder before ringing it up. 

“And I suppose you’re still lopping off limbs without anesthetic then?” She continued as if there had been no break in the discussion.

“Of course not.” 

“So why wouldn’t there have been advances in other areas as well?” She pointed out. “Give the poor woman a chance, Anders. You might end up loving her. Stranger things have happened.” 

_Right_ , he thought, but in the interest of keeping the peace he let the subject drop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [A Happy Accident photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/a+happy+accident)


	11. A Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie eagerly awaits Sebastian's return from Orlais as she helps a very nervous Aveline prepare for her wedding.

Anders stood on a ladder, balanced precariously one step above the step that stated quite definitely not to step above this one. He had one hand on the floral garland and the other on the blackened wooden rafter he was supposed to be affixing it to, awaiting the final verdict.

“It needs to be loopier.” Annie pronounced finally. She was standing by the bar as half a dozen of Varric’s urchins scrambled frantically around The Hanged Man getting things set up for the wedding that was due to start in just under half an hour. 

Anders rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I don’t even know what that means.” He informed her. 

“Loopier.” She repeated, waving her hand in a circular motion.

As if that clarified it in any way. How had he ended up here? He didn’t even particularly like Aveline and he knew she felt the same way about him, so why on Thedas was he risking a broken neck to decorate the place for her wedding? 

The reason for that particular decision crossed the room to stand at the foot of the ladder. 

“That part’s too straight.” Annie said pointing to his left. “And the part next to it is way too loopy.” She frowned as if reconsidering the word. “Floppy?” She offered tentatively, and then her face lit up. “Flacid!” She cried out triumphantly. 

Several heads turned to stare. Annie seemed entirely unaware of them. 

“I don’t think that word means what you think it does.” Anders muttered, but to give her credit he understood what she meant now at least, and leaned over to the side to adjust the garland. “How’s that?” He asked turning his head to look at her.

The restaurant had been open for brunch, albeit for a shorter time than usual, and would be opening again for dinner at 6:00 and the changes that had been made to the place since brunch had ended were impressive, he had to admit, even if he’d had no intention of participating in the transformation.

He’d woken to find the apartment deserted (odd enough on a Sunday) and stumbled down to the kitchen only to discover there was no coffee, so he’d pulled on jeans and a tee shirt and gone down to the Hanged Man to grab a cup. Ignoring the sign saying the establishment was closed for a private function, he’d pushed the door open and walked into the place only to be greeted by the sight of Miss Annie Hawke, in the act of stepping onto a rickety wooden ladder that was probably older than she was. She was already dressed for her role as maid of honor, in a narrow skirted dress that ended a just below the curve of her calf and she was wearing a pair of ridiculously high heeled shoes that he was surprised she could walk in, let alone scale a ladder. As if that weren’t impediment enough she had draped what had to be at least ten feet of floral garland around her neck. 

He’d started shouting before the door had even shut behind him. 

Annie, of course, had just smiled, happily oblivious to the danger of her actions, and blithely ignoring his fit of temper. The next thing he knew he was on the ladder hanging decorations for a wedding he had no desire to even attend, let alone decorate, while she called out orders from below. 

It was a not at all unusual turn of events in their relationship, he was forced to acknowledge. 

She was smiling with satisfaction now as she looked over the room. “It’s perfect. All of it.” She said with a happy sigh.

The tables had been rearranged to make room for a dance floor and the band was busy unpacking their instruments over by the ancient upright piano that always stood in the corner. Crisp white linens covered the battered wooden tables which had had been set and decorated with bright floral centerpieces. Anders had to admit the place was transformed. 

“So I can get off this thing now?” He asked but he couldn’t help a smile. It was plain that Annie Hawke was having the time of her life with this wedding.

That brilliant smile was turned on him. “Yes.” She said, and held the ladder steady for him as he climbed down. “Isn’t it beautiful?” She asked as he reached the bottom.

“Not bad.” He admitted grudgingly. 

She reached up, putting a hand around his neck and pulling his head down so she could press a kiss to his cheek. 

“You are a prince among men.” She informed him as she used her thumb to rub off the red lipstick she’d left there. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“Oh you would have found some other poor sap to drag into it, I don’t doubt that for a minute.” His eyes went to the garlands, and then the centerpieces. “You didn’t tell me what Aveline thought of the flowers.” He commented. 

Annie’s dimple danced at the corner of her mouth. “That’s probably because she hasn’t seen them yet.”

Anders eyebrows rose in surprise. “Half an hour before the wedding and she still doesn’t know? How in the Maker’s name did you pull that off?” 

She laughed. “A ready willingness to play the fool to keep her distracted at crucial moments, and some very nimble whisking from room to room.”

Anders could only shake his head. Annie Hawke. She did like to live dangerously. “You don’t think there’s a certain risk inherent in leaving the discovery this close to the actual ceremony?” 

Annie gave an unconcerned wave of her hand. ”The closer it is to the actual ceremony the more distracted she’ll be, and the less likely to do me physical harm. “ She reasoned. “There is actually method to my madness. So few give me credit for that.” 

“Uh-huh.” Said Anders dubiously. “And have you considered the possibility that she might channel her wedding nerves into floral wrath?” 

Annie opened her mouth to respond and closed it again, and it was so clear she hadn’t that Anders burst out laughing. 

For the first time since she’d told them about the flowers she’d ordered she seemed less than certain about the decision. She frowned causing a small wrinkle to appear between her brows.

Anders somehow resisted the urge to reach up and smooth it away, though it required a surprising amount of willpower. 

“All right.” She admitted. “That might have been a small oversight on my part.”

“You think so?” He asked with a smirk. 

After a moment she laughed. “Ah well. Too late to do anything about it now.” She pointed to a large white cardboard box that was lying on one of the nearby tables. “I’m about to take her headpiece and bouquet up to her, so there’ll be no hiding it. If you hear the sounds of furniture being tossed about upstairs, or loud screams, my screams specifically, you’ll come rushing to my rescue, right?” 

Anders gave a small snort. “Yeah, I don’t think so. But, good luck with that.” He gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. 

“Oh, that’s nice! I take back the prince remark.” She informed him. “Consider yourself demoted back to mere mortal.” 

“Well, it’s lucky for you Vael will be here soon.” Anders said dryly.

Annie’s face lit up. No not just her face, everything, all of her, and he could have kicked himself. Why on Thedas he’d felt the need to bring up Sebastian bloody Vael and his imminent arrival. He’d seen that expression on her face more times than he wanted to count over the course of the past week, every time her phone rang and she realized it was the prince. Anders had grown to hate the ringtone she’d programmed into her phone for the man, which was a shame because he’d rather liked the song before he’d heard it a dozen times a day for almost a week. 

For such an important businessman Sebastian Vael seemed to have a lot of free time for lengthy personal phone calls. 

“So he’s going to make it, then?” Anders asked trying to sound, if not pleased by the idea at least not actively hostile about it. Sebastian’s return from Orlais had been delayed several times, first by business and then by weather when Drakon International had been fogged in last night. The last he’d heard Sebastian was trying to get a flight out of Val Royeaux this morning. 

Again that brilliant smile. “His plane took off just before noon. It’ll be tight but he should. I’ve got to get these upstairs.” She said holding up the box. “Thanks again for the help.” She said heading for the stairs up to Varric’s apartment. “You should go change yourself, you know.” She told him over her shoulder. “You want to get a good seat, right?” 

Anders grunted in response. _Not especially_ , he thought to himself. He watched her leave, struck again by how lovely she looked today. He’d been too irate to notice it when he’d first come in. It was only about halfway through the decorating that he’d realized it. 

She was wearing a simple silk dress in a dark emerald green, not your typical bridesmaid dress, all flounces and ruffles and poofs and such, but plain, with flutter sleeves and cut on the bias, a look he’d always loved on women back when he had the time, inclination, and money to pay attention to such things. It wasn’t overtly sexy, not truly revealing at all really: the neckline hit just below her collar bone, it wasn’t tight enough to cling, and the hem ended scant inches above her ankles, but the silk seemed to almost caress her when she moved, just hinting at the slender figure beneath. Her hair was down but she’d done something to it, tamed those wild curls so they fell in sleek heavy waves down her back, and one side was pinned back by two perfect gardenias, real ones, not silk. 

He couldn’t help wondering if anyone would even notice the bride. “Hey.” He called out.

She turned to him expectantly.

She made such a picture standing there that he couldn’t help smiling. “You look beautiful too.” He told her. She looked so pleased that he was left wondering why he didn’t compliment her more often. 

“Thank you.” She said softly. Her cheeks had turned pink and there was something almost shy about the response. She turned again and all but ran up the stairs, leaving him shaking his head. 

She was such a contradiction at times: all laughter and charm and a confidence that bordered on brazen at times and yet a simple compliment left her blushing like a schoolgirl. Anders watched as she disappeared up the stairs, and then obediently turned to go back to the apartment and change for the wedding, only realizing as he was unlocking the front door that he’d never gotten his coffee. 

 

Annie pressed a hand to her flaming cheeks as she continued up the stairs. She hated when she blushed like this, but on the rare occasions when someone complimented her she always did, and the fact that it was Anders of all people, Anders , who never noticed her appearance at all unless it was to tell her to put a coat on before she went out because that white stuff falling from the sky was snow and indicated to most people that the temperature had dropped and one of Carver’s sweaters wasn’t going to cut it, even if it did almost reach her knees, or to inform her that the hat she had just purchased from a stand at the Lowtown market was undoubtedly the ugliest he’d ever seen and she didn’t truly intend to wear it in public, did she? The comments always concluded with a shake of the head, or a roll of the eyes, but accompanied by an indulgent smile.

He’d never said she’d looked beautiful before. She didn’t think even ‘pretty’ had passed his lips. Compliments just weren’t something you expected from Anders. Granted she had taken special pains with her appearance this morning, literal pains actually when she’d tried to tame her hair into a more elegant style. Her ribs were feeling a hundred times better than they had a week ago but certain movements quickly reminded her of the injury, and one of them appeared to be any movement involving a blow dryer or curling iron. Luckily, Merrill, sweetheart that she was, had taken pity on her, and she admitted, had done the job better than she ever could have. The dress suited her, she thought and she adored the shoes she’d splurged on, stiletto heeled and with a satin ribbon that wrapped around her ankle. She’d been pleased with the results overall, but Anders’ compliment had surprised her completely.

But if even he’d noticed, did that mean Sebastian would think she looked beautiful as well? Maker she hoped so. Her heart began to do that fluttery anticipation thing it had been doing with increasing frequency, and she told firmly it to knock it off and behave. Aveline was the priority right now, getting her ready, and soothing her surprisingly ruffled nerves. She had no time to be mooning over Sebastian or wondering if he’d arrived yet, and if he were in fact sitting one flight below her at this very moment. Maker, she’d missed him. She didn't know how could you miss someone that much after only knowing them for a week, but she did, and he did too, and it had been a week of phone calls and texts, at all hours of the day and night. She sent him pictures of what she was doing, and had made him do the same, and it had been wonderful, not as wonderful as actually seeing him again but still wonderful.

She was almost at the door to Varric’s apartment when voices shouting broke her out of her reverie.

“You put any more paint on my face, woman, and I’m going to flatten you.”

 _Shit_. She increased her pace as much as the narrowness of the skirt of her dress would allow, opening the door just in time to hear Isabela’s response.

“What? Worried that Donnic won’t recognize you if you look too much like a girl?” Isabela teased.

“That’s it!” Aveline yelled.

Annie skidded into the bedroom in the back to find a still-robed Aveline backing a laughing Isabela into a corner. 

“Everyone freeze!” She shouted, and much to her surprise they listened, even Merrill who had been standing at the other side of the room, round-eyed, and clutching a curling iron in one hand. 

“You.” Annie ordered Aveline. “Sit down and let Merrill finish your hair.” She placed the florist’s box on the bed and put her hand on her side with a small wince. Yeah. Sprinting in high heels was definitely off the list until her ribs were healed.

Giving Isabel one last glare, Aveline stalked back towards the chair, stopping when she noticed Annie holding her side. “Why are you clutching your ribs?” She demanded.

“It’s nothing. I just moved a little too fast.” Annie reassured her. “I’m fine, truly.”

Aveline immediately rounded on Isabela. “Do you see what you did?” She demanded.

Isabela laughed. “Me? You were the one threatening bodily harm. I’m just here to help.”

“And tormenting me is just a side benefit?” Aveline said with a snort.

“A fantastic one, but yes.” Isabela said with a grin. 

Aveline glowered but didn’t actually say anything, which Annie decided to count as a victory. “Come on.” Annie said, crossing to Aveline’s side and steering her back to the chair by Merrill. “Let Merrill finish up your hair and we’ll get you into your dress. It’s almost time.” She reminded her. 

Aveline seemed to go a bit pale, even under the makeup she wore, but she sat without protest.

 _One down_ , Annie thought. She turned to a still smirking Isabela. “You. Your work here is done. Go downstairs. Get a drink. Seduce a groomsman. Just stay out of here and stay out of trouble.”

Isabela’s eyes lit up and she almost danced out of the room. 

Annie shook her head but couldn’t help smiling, and then she realized what she’d just said. “Shit.” She hurried to the doorway keeping her hand on her ribs as she ran this time. “Isabela!” She called out to her. “Don’t actually seduce a groomsman until after the ceremony, okay? We need them right now.” There was no response and she heard the door to the apartment slammed shut. “Isabela?” She called again. 

Silence. 

Annie turned back to Aveline with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m sure she heard me.” 

Aveline was frowning at her. “Are you sure you’re all right?"

Annie waved a hand dismissing her concerns. “I’m fine. Are we ready for the headpiece, Merrill?” She asked.

Merrill started as if she had forgotten what she was supposed to be doing. “Oh yes! Well almost, that is. I was going to curl a few bits around her face? Is that all right?” She asked Annie, holding up the curling iron. 

“You know the hair in question is actually mine, not Annie’s, right?” Aveline snapped. “Shouldn’t I be the one you’re asking?” 

Merrill’s eyes went even rounder. “I didn’t mean…” She started to say but Aveline cut her off before she could finish the sentence. 

“I’m sorry Merrill. I shouldn’t have snapped. It’s fine. Go ahead.”

In spite of Aveline’s earlier warning Merrill still looked to Annie for confirmation. 

Annie nodded and walked back to the bed opening the florist’s box and staring down at the flowers, trying to remember why this had seemed like such a clever idea earlier in the week. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and worried it. 

Aveline had been watching her from under Merrill’s arm as she curled small tendrils of hair. 

“Why are you frowning?” She demanded. “Everything’s ready downstairs, isn’t it?” She asked Annie.

“Everything is beautiful downstairs.” Annie answered truthfully.

Aveline stared at the girl suspiciously. “You promise the flowers aren’t pink?” 

Annie gave a nervous laugh. “I promise, they are definitely not pink.” Several different shades of orange, actually, but definitely not pink. 

“Donnic is here, right?” Aveline blurted out suddenly.

Annie looked up in confusion, the flowers momentarily forgotten. “Of course Donnic’s here. Where else would he be?” Aveline looked so relieved that Annie couldn’t help laughing. “Aveline Vallen! You didn’t really think he wouldn’t show, did you?”

Aveline gave her a shaky smile. “No. No, of course not.” She let out a deep breath. “I’m nervous.” She confessed. “It’s ridiculous. Why the Void should I be nervous? I want this, more than anything.” Her mouth formed a determined line. “There’s absolutely no reason for me to be this nervous. It’s sheer self-indulgent nonsense and it needs to stop.” She said resolutely. 

Annie hid her smile. Trust Aveline to try and logic away wedding nerves. “That’s my girl.” She said encouragingly.

Merrill had put down the curling iron and pulled a can of hairspray out of a tote bag. “Oh, I don’t know. I think it’s perfectly natural for Aveline to be nervous.” She chimed in. She shook the can vigorously and began spraying as she spoke. “Here you are all dressed up in a fancy white dress, walking down the aisle in front of everyone you know, and everyone you work with and all of Donnic’s family, most of whom you’ve never even met, and every one of them will be completely fixed on you, staring at you, watching your every move, and as if that’s not bad enough, you’ll be laying your emotions bare in front of all of them, telling Donnic exactly how you feel about him with everyone listening and judging every word that you say, and you such a private person to begin with…” 

“I’m going to be sick.” Aveline blurted out and bolting from the chair she ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. They heard the sound of retching from behind the closed door.

“Oh, the poor thing.” Merrill said sympathetically. 

Annie somehow refrained from rolling her eyes. “I’ll take care of it, Merrill. You should be getting downstairs to start checking invitations. Would you send Carver up with some ginger ale?”

Merrill’s eyes widened. “Is it that late already? Good luck, Aveline!” Merrill called out, and ran from the room.

Annie walked over to the bathroom door and listened. It was quiet. She knocked lightly. “Aveline? Do you want me to get your toothbrush from your bag?” 

The toiler flushed and a moment later the door opened, revealing Aveline, looking a bit pale but calmer. “You can’t.” She informed Annie. “I broke it this morning. I meant to stop and pick one up on the way here but I forgot”

Annie raised an eyebrow. “You broke it?” She repeated. 

“It snapped in half when I was brushing my teeth.” Aveline stared at her defiantly, as if daring her to say anything.

Annie made a small noise and clapped her hand over her mouth in an effort to hide her smile. 

Aveline glared at her. “It is not funny.” She warned the girl.

Annie quickly composed her features. “No.” She said gravely. “Not funny. Not funny at all. Serious. So very, very serious.” She agreed, but despite her best efforts she started laughing. “I’m sorry. It is a little bit funny.” 

Aveline’s lips twitched. “Shut up.” She turned away to glance at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Did I ruin my makeup?” 

Annie took a careful look. “No. A bit of fresh lipstick and you’ll be good as new.” She opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a toothbrush, still in its wrapper, handing it to Aveline along with a travel size toothpaste. “Varric keeps a few spares for when one of the urchins crashes here.” She explained.

Aveline grabbed it, tore off the packaging and began vigorously brushing her teeth. 

Annie went back out into the bedroom, and opening the box stared at the flower crown again. In spite of the joke (the joke that was, she admitted was entirely at Aveline’s expense) the wreath was beautiful, she reasoned. Perhaps is she could just get it put in place and get the dress on, Aveline would notice that, and not the choice of flowers. It was worth a shot. She went and turned the chair so it faced away from the full length mirror. It was worth a shot. 

Aveline emerged from the bathroom a few seconds later, looking more herself. “I’m sorry about that.” She told Annie. “I was nervous and with everyone fussing over me it just seemed to get worse.”

“Most brides are nervous. I’d have been more worried if you hadn’t been.” Annie patted the chair. “Sit, and let’s get you finished up.”

Aveline did as she’d asked. “I wasn’t nervous at all with Wesley.” She asked after a moment. “Do you think that means something?” It was a question she would only have asked of Annie Hawke.

“You eloped with Wesley.” Annie reminded her as she place the wreath carefully on Aveline’s bright hair and began pinning it firmly in place.

“I wanted to look at that before you put it on.” Aveline protested. 

“Sorry. You only get the full picture – flowers, dress, all of it.” For just a moment Annie wondered if she could possibly get Aveline through the entire ceremony before she noticed the flowers. No, the odds were against that, she decided. She moved in front of Aveline looking carefully, making a few small adjustments, sticking in another couple of pins, and pulling some wispy curls free. 

“I’m wearing a flower crown.” Aveline said flatly.

“Yes, you are.” Annie agreed, straightening up with a smile. “And it looks beautiful. You ready for the dress?” 

Aveline didn’t answer, but stood as Annie slipped the dress off the hanger and carried it over to her. “I’m wearing a flower crown and a white dress.” She added as she stepped into the dress, slipping her arms into the sleeves. “At my age, I’m wearing a flower crown and a white dress.” She repeated. “I’m a thirty-five year old widow.”

“Also true.” Annie carefully pulled the zipper up and closed the hook and eye at the top.

“I’m going to look ridiculous.” Aveline complained. “We should have gone to the Keep the way I wanted to. I can’t believe I let you talk me into this circus. Wearing white at my age, and a full length gown at that. Mutton dressed as lamb.” She muttered ominously. “That’s what they’re going to say.”

Annie took a step back to look at her and smiled. As Aveline had pointed out, the dress was white, and full length, but like her own dress, it didn’t scream out ‘bride’; in another color it would simply have been a formal gown. The design was simple, white silk crepe de chine, sleeveless, but with a silk organza capelet sort of thing that covered her upper arms and shoulders, making them appear less broad. The whole thing, dress, hair, makeup and the flower crown made her seem softer, a softness that Annie knew was there, but few others realized. "You know, I’ve never actually understood that expression: ‘mutton dressed as lamb’. What does it even mean?”

“A woman dressed inappropriately for her age.” Aveline said ominously. “A woman trying to pretend that tough stringy mutton can be served in a dish meant for young tender lamb and thinking no one will notice it, but it doesn’t fool anyone. Mutton dressed as lamb. That’s what they’ll say.” 

“Mmhm.” Annie said in a neutral voice. “And who is ‘they’ again?” Annie asked.

“They.” Aveline repeated with a vague wave of her hand. “Everyone. All these people I barely know who’ve come to gawk at the sight of me like this. Why did I ever agree to this ridiculous circus of a wedding?” 

“I can think of three reasons. Because you know how much pleasure you’ll give all your friends by letting us be a part of it all. Because deep down you know Donnic wanted at least a small wedding celebration, and to have his family there to see him marry the woman he loves.”

Aveline groaned accepting defeat. “He does. And I want him to be happy.” She took a deep breath and seemed to stand a little straighter. “What’s the third reason?”

Annie grinned at her. “Because you know it’s going to be an awesome party.”

Aveline couldn’t help laughing. “I’ll hold you to that.” She warned and then shook her head. “I love him. I want to marry him more than anything. Why am I so nervous?”

Annie had retrieved Aveline’s lipstick from the makeup bag. “Seems to be a theme with you and Donnic. But think of how nervous you were when you were trying to let him know you were interested in him and look how well that’s turned out.” She reminded her. "Go like this." She said, pursing her lips slightly.

Aveline did as she asked and Annie quickly touched up her lipstick, and handed her a tissue. "Blot." She ordered. 

Aveline blotted her lips, removing any extra lipstick and then laughed suddenly. “Well, no matter what else goes wrong today at least I know there won’t be any marigolds.” She turned to face the girl and her smile faded the instant she saw the expression on Annie’s face. “Anabel Esme Hawke, what did you do?” She demanded.

Before Annie could answer the door to the apartment slammed open. “Oi!” Carver called out from the other room. “You decent?” He walked into the bedroom without waiting for an answer, carrying a glass of ginger ale in his hand. “Merrill said I was supposed to…” His voice trailed off and his mouth fell open as he saw Aveline in all her finery. “Wow. You look amazing. “

Aveline ignored the comment and stared at the boutonniere in his lapel. She whirled around to Annie. “Is that a marigold?” She demanded, pointing at the offending object. The very question sounded like a threat.

“Not just a marigold. There’s a rose too. And greenery.” Annie rushed to tell her.

The muscles in Aveline’s jaw clenched. 

“You attacked Sebastian in his office. It’s no less than you deserve.” Annie insisted, backing carefully away from her. 

Aveline just stared at her.

“You can’t kill me.” Annie informed her. “It’ll stain your dress.” She ducked behind her brother. “Save me!” She implored.

“I told her not to do it.” Carver told Aveline. 

Annie gave him a small shove and ginger ale sloshed out of the glass and onto the floor. 

“Hey!” said Carver with a glare. 

“You big coward! You thought it was hilarious when I told you.” Annie reminded him. 

“The decorations downstairs?” Aveline demanded. “Marigolds?”

Annie hesitated. “A few?” She offered tentatively.

Aveline’s eyes narrowed.

“Okay, more than a few. But less than a lot.” She promised

Aveline continued to stare at her.

Annie suddenly understood why Aveline was so successful at eliciting confessions from Kirkwall’s less savory citizens. “Okay, yes, that’s a lie. There are a lot. Quite a lot actually. Heaps.” 

Aveline didn’t even seem to be blinking.

“It looks beautiful, Aveline, it really does.” She gave Carver another shove. “Tell her.” She hissed at him.

“It does look kind of cool actually.” Carver admitted.

Aveline ignored them both, and turning abruptly, walked over to the mirror, staring at her reflection for the first time. She raised a hand to touch one of the marigolds in her wreath. She still didn’t speak. 

Annie wasn’t entirely certain she was even breathing at this point. She exchanged a worried glance with Carver, who shrugged helplessly. 

Aveline left the mirror and walked to the bed, flipping open the florist’s box and staring at her bouquet.

 _Crap_. Annie thought. She’d finally done it, just as Leandra had always predicted she would. She’d finally taken her weird sense of humor too far. _Crap, crap, crap._

And then, unexpectedly, Aveline started laughing. And kept laughing.

Carver and Annie exchanged worried glances. “Aveline?” Annie asked tentatively.

“ _At least there won’t be marigolds_.” Aveline said and laughed even harder. When she finally able to stop she grabbed for a tissue and dabbed carefully at her eyes. “Oh, Maker.” She said weakly. When she looked up at the siblings she was smiling and there was no sign at all of any anger or her earlier nerves. “Well, what are we waiting for?” She asked, reaching down and picking up her bouquet. “I’ve got a wedding to get to.”

Annie could only goggle at her. “That’s it?”

Aveline seemed to find the question amusing. “Well I wouldn’t want to kill you and stain my dress now would I?” She turned that same almost light-hearted smile to Carver. “Ready to walk me down the aisle?” She asked.

Carver grinned back at her. “Sure.” He offered her his arm. She took it, and the two of them walked out of the room, leaving Annie standing there, feeling not unlike the survivor of an earthquake or tsunami or some other natural disaster. 

She’d survived pranking Aveline on her wedding day, and not just a little prank. A big one. Huge, in fact.

Now that was impressive, she thought, and grabbing her own smaller bouquet from the box she followed them out of the apartment. 

 

It had been Sebastian’s plan to be back in Kirkwall by Saturday afternoon so that he could attend the rehearsal dinner with Annie, but the necessity of a return visit to his vineyard had changed his departure time to late evening at which point Drakon International Airport had been fogged in and all outgoing flights had been cancelled. By the time the fog had cleared this morning he’d barely made it back to Kirkwall with enough time to change for the wedding and hail a taxi. 

It also meant that it had now been five days now, not four since he had seen Anabel. They’d talked every night, and several times during the days as well but as much pleasure as he’d taken in those conversations his need to see her had become an almost desperate thing. 

It was a new sensation for him, and one that should probably concern him more than it did, he thought with a rueful smile. 

The taxi pulled up in front of the Hanged Man and Sebastian stepped out, marking the “Closed for Private Function” sign that had been placed on the door of the establishment. He pushed the door open and walked in.

There was a small dark-haired girl behind the podium wearing a bright yellow dress liberally appliqued with white daisies and she looked up and gave him a cheerful smile. “Good Morning. Could I see your invitation, please?” Before he could answer, her eyes had gone wide. “Oh!” She exclaimed happily. “It’s you! Annie will be so glad you’re finally here! She’s been positively pining for you the last few days. It’s very unlike her. You must mean a great deal to her, and so quickly!” 

He was unprepared for the small thrill of pleasure the news gave him. He didn’t know that he would have called what he had been doing the last few days ‘pining’ but it was rather apt, and more than a little reassuring to know that he hadn’t been the only one. He looked back at the girl behind the podium, recognizing her now. “Merrill, wasn’t it?” He asked with an easy smile. “It’s good to see you again.”

Merrill’s eyes went even rounder which he wouldn’t have thought possible. “Oh my.” She said breathlessly. “Yes, I can quite see how you’ve swept her off her feet.”

The door opened and another rather rowdier group came in. Merrill spared them a quick smile and then turned back Sebastian. ““Go right in. The ceremony’s out on the patio – that’s where everyone’s gathering. Wait until you see how beautifully Annie’s decorated it, though I don’t know what Aveline’s going to do when she sees it.” 

And with that rather cryptic statement she turned her attention to the group behind him. 

He stepped past the podium and into the main room and stopped to take in the changes. The place looked transformed, decorated with flowers in bright orange and yellow, in an eclectic collection of containers – cups and teapots and the occasional vase – on the tables, and garlands hung from the wooden rafters. It was only as he stepped closer that Sebastian realized that the flowers were primarily marigolds in every shade from yellow to dark burnt orange. It was an unusual choice on Anabel’s part, but he couldn’t deny that they brightened up the dark interior of the place. 

He checked his watch. The ceremony was minutes away from starting and while he had yet to attend a wedding that actually began on time he was fairly certain that if there was such a thing it would be that of Guard Captain Vallen, and so he made his way out onto the patio. 

A teenage boy wearing an ill-fitting black suit and a marigold boutonniere had been slouching against the brick wall of the patio but immediately straightened up as he did. 

“Bride or groom?” The boy asked.

Neither, Sebastian thought, though I suspect I’m falling in love with the maid of honor. He supposed that made it ‘bride’, and that was what he was about to tell the boy that when an arm slipped through his.

“I do love a man who can pull off a white linen suit. So few can.”

He looked down in surprise and then smiled. “How are you Isabela?” 

She was bestowing a smile on the usher that left the boy looking quite dazed. “I’ll take it from here sweet thing.” She told him as she steered Sebastian towards the seats in the front. “I’m in heaven. Turns out Donnic’s got all these strapping brothers and cousins, country boys who hardly ever get in to enjoy the pleasures that only the city can offer.“ She blew a kiss to another usher who was staring at her longingly. “I’m positively spoiled for choice.” She glanced up at him. “Annie’s missed you.” She informed him, watching him carefully.

“I’ve missed her as well.” He was able to say with complete honesty. 

“Good. I’ve saved you a seat up front with us. You’ll be able to gawk at her all you want, with nothing to block the view." 

The service began shortly after that. It was simple, a string quartet playing as Donnic and his groomsmen entered, with, to Sebastian’s surprise, Fenris.

Isabela leaned in close. “If you want to be completely wowed, turn around and look down the aisle.” She whispered softly.

He turned around and everything seemed to stop.

Maker she was beautiful. Like a film noir femme fatale. Her hair was parted on the side and left to fall in loose waves, and she’d pinned part of it back with two gardenias. Her dress was of a deep emerald silk, cut on the bias, a simple design, but utterly exquisite. _She_ was utterly exquisite.

Her eyes were searching as she began walking up the aisle, and she’d taken only a few steps when she found him, and she smiled a smile that seemed to light her up from within and he found himself smiling back at her, so entranced that it wasn’t until he heard Carver hiss out “Maker’s tits Annie, walk!” that he even noticed that she’d stopped walking, and had in fact been standing there staring at him. 

There was some good natured laughter from the guests. Anabel laughed and blushed as well, before proceeding the rest of the way up the aisle, very carefully not looking at Sebastian again. 

For his part, Sebastian barely noticed the rest of the ceremony, fixed on her as he was. 

She kept her eyes focused on the service only looking at him after she’d given Aveline her fiancé’s ring, as the bride and groom were reciting their vows. 

Sebastian had attended countless weddings over the years but for the first time he could imagine himself doing the same, could hear himself reciting those vows. 

Out of nowhere he remembered speaking with his grandfather shortly after his grandmother Megan had passed away. He couldn’t have been more than five or six, but he remembered hearing him tell the story of the first time he’d seen her. 

_Our eyes met across the room and I knew._

_Knew what?_ Sebastian had asked. 

_That if I could convince her to love me, to marry me, then that would be all the happiness I would ever need in my life and I was right._

_You knew, just like that?_ Sebastian had asked, cynical about such things even at that young age.

 _Just like that._ His grandfather confirmed. _She was my great love, your grandmother._

_Will it happen to me like that? Will I find a great love?_

His grandfather had smiled indulgently at him. _Yes, if you’re very lucky. And if you’re very lucky and very clever you’ll realize what it is you’ve found right away and not let things like logic and common sense keep you from making her yours as soon as you can._ His eyes had grown distant. _Our time on Thedas is so short, Sebastian. Make sure to take every moment you can._

He was startled from the memory by applause, and he realized the bride and groom were kissing. The ceremony was over. He joined in the applause, still thinking of that conversation as he looked at Anabel Hawke. The couple had ended their kiss, and she was giving Aveline back her bouquet.

_Will I find a great love?_

_If you’re very lucky._

He watched her walk by on the arm of another of the groom’s brothers or cousins and their eyes met again.

He’d never felt luckier in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the ridiculously long delay between chapters. New chapters should be up quicker now.
> 
> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [A Happy Accident photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/a+happy+accident)


	12. All the Happiness I Will Ever Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian and Annie finally reunite after their almost five day separation.

Sebastian watched as Anabel left the patio with the rest of the wedding party.

He’d never felt luckier in his life.

It was a moment of complete possibility: true love, great love, happily ever after, riding off into the sunset. All of it seemed possible because through a series of random events, arbitrary choices and quite literal accidents, he’d met Anabel Hawke. 

That realization made it seem a suddenly fragile thing, something to be protected and carefully nurtured, and it brought Sebastian quite shockingly and abruptly back down to earth. 

Had he ever had a relationship that asked that of him? He didn’t think so; certainly not a romantic relationship.

_Dear Maker_ , he thought desperately. _Let me be able to do this, have this, and…?_

His grandfather’s words echoed in his mind, bringing a smile to his lips, and calming him.

_And that will be all the happiness I will ever need in my life._

Just a week ago he would have dismissed such a thought as hyperbolic romantic twaddle, but what a difference a week had made. 

“Ooh-hooh!” Isabela waived her hand in front of his face, and he blinked in surprise. “You know that you’d have a better chance of actually seeing Annie if we followed the rest of the crowd inside, right?” 

Only then did it occur to him that standing as he was at the end of the aisle, he was blocking any of the others from leaving. Besotted, he thought as he stepped out of the way so the others could pass. “I’m afraid my thoughts were elsewhere.” He admitted.

“Oh, Annie’s done that to all of us at one point or another.” Isabela said breezily giving a cat-like stretch, before moving into the aisle. “Isn’t that right Anders?”

Anders scowled, ignoring the question. “I’m getting a drink.” He announced and pushed past the both of them, disappearing into the crowd bottlenecked at the doors to the restaurant.

Sebastian watched him leave, his expression carefully neutral. It was obvious the man didn’t care for him, just as it was obvious it had something to do with Anders’ relationship with Anabel, but Sebastian couldn’t quite decide what that relationship was. Was Anders’ hostility merely the protectiveness of a friend, or was there something more to it? Had the two of them ever…

“No,” said Isabela.

Sebastian turned to look at her. “I’m sorry?” He asked.

“They’ve never been together. Annie and Anders. But they are very close. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?” She asked with a pointed look. 

Had he been that transparent? “Not at all.” The answer came automatically, and with perhaps more conviction than he truly felt. 

“Good”, said Isabela approvingly. She slid her arm through his, leading him towards the door. “Because that girl never abandons her friends; you might as well ask her to cut off a limb. And she’s got such pretty limbs, don’t you think?” 

He couldn’t help laughing. “She does indeed.” He agreed.

As they made their way to the back, Sebastian noticed the young usher he’d encountered earlier standing by the door once again, watching them with what could only be described as a crestfallen expression. Isabela appeared not to have notice him.

“I believe you have an admirer.” Sebastian told her quietly.

Isabela looked puzzled and he gave a small nod in the boy’s direction. 

She turned, saw him, and smiled indulgently. “Oh, just look at him. They can be so sweet at that age, don’t you think?” She murmured.

She lifted her hand and gave him a careless wave and the boy’s whole face lit up. She beckoned to him and he came running up to them like an enthusiastic puppy who’d been promised a game of fetch.

“There you are sweet thing.” Isabela said, reaching up and straightening his tie. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She lied smoothly, giving him a brilliant smile that seemed to leave him a bit dazed. “You naughty boy, running off like that. You promised me a dance, remember?” 

“Yes.” The boy agreed, nodding his head vigorously. “Yes, I did.” His eyes darted to Sebastian and his enthusiasm seemed to diminish a bit. 

Sebastian took pity on him and gently extricating himself from Isabela’s hold, he offered the lad his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Sebastian Vael.”

Isabela slid her arm around the boy’s shoulders, a task easily accomplished as she was several inches taller than he. “Sebastian’s with Annie.” She explained, and just like that the boy was all smiles again.

“Annie? Oh!” He took Sebastian’s hand and shook it enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah, Annie’s great!” 

Sebastian tried not to smile too broadly as he returned the handshake, wondering if he had ever been that young and earnest. He didn’t think so. 

“I’m Wilbur.” The boy added. “Wilbur Hendyr. I’m the groom’s cousin.”

Sebastian opened his mouth to say it was a pleasure to meet him, but Isabela cut him off before he could.

“Wilbur?” She repeated, aghast. “Are you sure?” 

Wilbur looked as if he wanted to deny it. “Yes?” He said tentatively. 

Isabela took a step back from him, shaking her head. “Well that will never do.” She announced. “I could never call out ‘Wilbur’ in a moment of passion and truly mean it. It just couldn’t be done.” Her eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips, looking Wilbur over, as if considering her options. “I know!” She announced. “I’ll call you Will!” She took a step closer, this time draping both arms loosely around his neck. You don’t mind if I call you Will, do you?” She asked with a sultry smile.

Wilbur, now Will, swallowed hard. “I don’t mind.” He assured her. 

“Oh, good. Will.” She said it slowly, as if trying it out, and then closing her eyes, she repeated crying out loudly this time. “Will!” 

Several heads turned to stare.

Isabela seemed not to notice. She opened her eyes and gave an approving nod. “Oh yes. I can definitely work with ‘Will’.” 

The boy’s cheeks had gone a blotchy, mottled red. He opened his mouth and closed it once, and then a second time, but seemed incapable of actually forming words.

Isabela gave a smile worthy of the cat who’d caught the canary and leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Come on, Will. I desperately need a glass of champagne and I make a point of giving in to my needs, especially the desperate ones.” She kissed him again as if she couldn’t help herself, and then turned to Sebastian. “Stay here. I’ll send Annie back to you.”

Before he could offer his appreciation she’d taken Will by the hand and was pushing her way through the crowd into the Hanged Man, leaving Sebastian smiling after her. 

He could understand why Anabel was so fond of her.

 

_Worst maid of honor ever_ , Annie thought, as she quite literally abandoned the rest of the wedding party and headed back to the patio in search of Sebastian. 

She was shameless. She hadn’t even put any effort into her excuse, just stopped long enough to press a kiss to Aveline’s cheek and give Donnic a quick hug before announcing brightly _‘Must run. Wedding things. Crab puffs, you know’_. And then she’d just…left.

Crab puffs and such. Crab puffs.

And she hadn’t been fooling anyone: Aveline’s dubiously raised eyebrow, and the smug smirk on Carver’s face had let her know that she was going to be hearing about this one for weeks. 

And worst of all, it was a flat out lie. 

_Well, not a flat out lie_ , she reasoned. She really did have wedding things to check on: one hundred and one wedding things to check and double check and make sure of, and technically the crab puffs were a part of it, or would be, if they were in fact serving crab puffs which they weren’t as Donnic was allergic to shellfish, which probably explained Aveline’s raised eyebrow. Unfortunately she’d been unable to recall the name of a single hors d’oeuvre that actually was on the menu. 

_Mini empanadas_ , her brain helpfully supplied. _Chicken and beef_.

_Thanks. Now you remember. Very helpful._

She shook her head, trying to clear it. Babbling. Even in her own internal monologue, she was babbling. Blessed Andraste, let her at least appear to be thinking straight when she finally saw Sebastian. If she kept this up the man was going to turn on his heel and head straight back to Orlais. 

So, no, it wasn’t a lie that she had wedding things to do; the lie part was that she had even the slightest intention of doing any of them right now. The importance of making sure the band was set up and double checking that their equipment wouldn’t overwhelm The Hanged Man’s somewhat quirky electrical system, that the hors-d'oeuvres (sans the non-existent crab puffs) were circulating, and that the photographer (one of her colleagues at the Kirkwall Gazette) was actually taking pictures and not just using the opportunity to flirt with the more attractive guests – all of that paled beside the seemingly primal need to see Sebastian again, in person, actually face to face, after being deprived of that pleasure for a whole week. Almost a week. Five days really. Okay four and a half. 

Maker she was pathetic, she thought with a sigh. She could only hope Sebastian’s feelings were just as pathetic. Happily the sheer number of texts and calls and pictures they’d exchanged would seem to indicate that he was. She’d even convinced him to take a selfie and send it to her, though she’d had to walk him through it step by step. He’d looked gorgeous, of course. She suspected it would be nigh impossible for Sebastian Vael to take a bad picture.

She pushed past the crowd stacking up at the open bar (an open bar and half the city guard in attendance – that should make for an interesting afternoon, she’d told Varric when they’d been arranging the whole thing), and rounded the corner, only to run into another crowd still coming in from the patio. She had to stop, waiting for it to clear, and she stood there literally tapping her foot with impatience.

How in the Maker’s name had Aveline’s small wedding turned into a mob like this whose primary purpose in attending seemed to be blocking her path to Sebastian?

She couldn’t believe she’d even thought that.

_Worst maid of honor ever._

She stood there waiting, picturing how Sebastian had looked in that white linen suit, that ridiculous, perfect three-piece linen suit. 

Not one man in a thousand could actually pull off that suit, but on Sebastian it looked as natural as a t shirt and jeans. He’d looked perfect, like something out of a romance novel. And then there was that look in his eyes when he’d seen her, that look that had quite literally stopped her in her tracks. 

That look that she really wanted to see again, that she could see again if only these people would move even a little bit faster, but this group seemed to be in no hurry at all to get to the bar; they were just meandering in, talking about the wedding, pausing to hug and kiss each other and remark how well they all looked, and now they had actually come to a full stop, right there in the doorway and were talking about how lovely the decorations were (which under any other circumstances she would have been thrilled to hear, but dear Maker not now) and how wasn’t it marvelous that Donnic had finally found someone and gotten married at last?

Yeah, she was starting to regret the part she’d played in that. 

_Worst maid of honor ever_ , she thought with an audible groan this time, and deciding that at this point she might as well embrace the title, she gave up all pretense of not glaring at the offending guests. 

They didn’t appear to notice: they were too happy and too excited for Donnic, and for Aveline, and if she were any sort of a decent friend she’d be thinking about that too instead of wondering if Sebastian would kiss her when he saw her, which seemed likely, and if he did kiss her if it would be some sociably acceptable peck on the cheek, or if he would really kiss her, the way he had in the Chantry Plaza, and in the elevator going up to Mrs. Chantry’s apartment, and again in the elevator coming back down. 

She wondered what his kisses would be like when they were actually alone, just the two of them. She’d been wondering that all week, actually, along with wondering when they would be alone, not just for the time it took an elevator to get to the penthouse of a building, but actually alone and uninterrupted maybe even behind a closed door. It certainly wouldn’t be happening at the wedding today and she’d spent a good portion of the time they’d spent apart this week wondering how to remedy that.

As if that were likely to happen. She couldn’t even manage to get out onto the patio, where they would at least be occupying the same space. 

She sighed in frustration. 

Well, at least she knew he was still out there; this was the only way into the restaurant after all.

Of course he could have decided he’d waited long enough and just gone out onto the street from the patio and left that way.  
He wouldn’t have done that.

Would he?

And with that Annie Hawke decided she’d waited quite long enough.

She pushed her way brazenly through the crowd, pretending she didn’t hear the objections, and ran straight into Isabela who was draped around one of Donnic’s cousins. 

Sebastian wasn’t with them and she looked up at Isabela in panic.

Isabela just laughed. “I told him to wait for you on the patio, Kitten.” Isabela informed her before she could even voice the question. “I thought the two of you might like a bit of privacy for your reunion.” 

_Thank the Maker for Isabela_. “Have I told you how much I love you recently?” Annie asked moving past them. She stopped abruptly, and turned back to them. “Am I okay?” She asked, gesturing to herself, suddenly uncertain.

Isabela’s eyes swept over her from head to toe, and back. “Scrumptious.” She told her with an indulgent smile. “I could eat you up. I still might if things don’t work out with Sebastian.” She nudged her companion (Wilbur, Annie thought, now that she’d gotten a closer look, though she couldn’t be one hundred percent certain: there were almost a dozen Hendyr ‘boys’, and they all looked alike, the brothers and the cousins and the nephews, and the majority of them, like Wilbur, seemed to sport those sideburns). 

“Doesn’t Annie look perfect, Will?” Isabela prompted.

The boy managed to tear his eyes away from Isabela long enough to glance briefly at Annie. “Oh, yeah. You look really nice.” He agreed, and immediately went back to gazing adoringly at Isabela.

Annie couldn’t help laughing. “I’ll see you two in a bit.” She told them. “Be good.” She added, over her shoulder, mostly for Isabela’s benefit. 

“Kitten, I’m always good.” Isabela called after her.

The doorway had finally cleared out and Annie stepped through it unimpeded, her heart pounding in her chest as she looked around for, and then spotted Sebastian, standing by the railing where they’d had their brunch just a week ago. 

Just a week. It didn’t seem possible.

As if he felt her watching him Sebastian looked up and saw her, and smiled, and with just that smile managed to render her incapable of movement once again. Even breathing seemed momentarily questionable.

Men weren’t supposed to be breathtakingly beautiful, were they? She hadn’t thought so, not outside of fairy tales, not in real life, and definitely not in Kirkwall, but there he was, Sebastian Vael, defying all her assumptions. 

The sun chose that moment to come out from behind a cloud, bathing the patio and Sebastian, in brilliant golden light. Wearing that white suit it made him seem to almost glow, as if he were some sort of benevolent Fade spirit suddenly summoned into existence, and it was so over the top that Annie couldn’t help laughing out loud, and with that laugh she found she could move again, and ran swiftly towards him. 

A knight in shining white armor, just as Anders had said, she thought. 

_Once upon a time there was a prince…_

The first lines of her favorite fairy tale popped into her head, seemingly out of nowhere. She ignored it and stopped about a foot away from him, drinking him in.

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other, smiling like love-struck fools.

Love-struck. Was this what it felt like, she wondered looking into those vivid blue eyes

_Once upon a time there was a prince who was everything a prince should be…_

Why on Thedas was that suddenly stuck in her head? She forced it out, continuing to stare up at him, her pulse still racing, her breath coming faster, just at the sight of him. She’d never reacted to anyone like this.

She wanted to touch him, to kiss him, to wrap herself around him, and, to borrow one of Isabela’s phrases, climb him like a tree. 

It was an absolutely perfect moment of anticipation, made all the sweeter by the knowledge that in just seconds she would be able that, to do all of it, everything she’d been aching to do for the last five days, possibly not the tree climbing him thing, but honestly, looking at him standing there, looking like that, she couldn’t entirely rule it out.

“Hi.” She said breathlessly. Her eyes swept over his face, taking in every feature, lingering on that perfectly sculpted mouth. Beautiful, she thought again. There simply wasn’t another word that fit as well. The storybook prince, the impossible ideal, the knight in shining white armor, and by some miracle he was here, waiting for her of all people. 

_Why, for Andraste’s sake?_

She should be saying something: something brilliant and scintillating, something to let him know how much she’d missed him, how she’d thought of him almost constantly, how she’d relived every kiss and caress they’d shared, and how she’d spent hours imagining those yet to come. 

“Hi.” She repeated. 

“Hello.” Sebastian said softly.

A shiver ran down her spine at the sound of his voice.

_Once upon a time there was a prince who was everything a prince should be…_

_Will you shut up already?_ She thought impatiently. 

Sebastian was looking down at her, smiling expectantly.

Her brain immediately went blank again. “Hi.” She said for the third time. 

_What is wrong with you?_ The voice in her head sounded a little more frantic now. _Say something – something other than ‘hi’. Anything..._

And Annie Hawke realized that without ‘hi’ she was, perhaps for the first time in her life, at a complete loss for words. 

_Do something!_ The voice screeched. 

_Like what ?_ she asked it _Tap dance? Sing a song? I’m open to suggestions here_.

She saw the corner of Sebastian’s mouth twitch, as if he were trying not to laugh and her eye was caught by the movement…

His mouth. Those perfect lips.

And suddenly she knew exactly what she was going to do.

She pounced. There was simply no other way to put it.

She threw herself against him, one hand grabbing the knot of his tie, the other sliding around the back of his neck, pulling him down to her and kissing him, roughly, shamelessly, letting out a soft moan at the feel and the taste of him, and Maker of course she could taste him because she had her tongue halfway down his throat, without even a _‘how was your flight’_ or _‘did you have a good ride in from the airport,_ ;, and how appalling was that? 

She started to pull away, to stammer an apology but he let out a sound that she could only describe as a soft growl, a sound so sexy that she immediately decided she needed to get him to make it again at some point during the course of the day). 

He slid one hand into her hair pulling her back into his arms and she went willingly, moaning again as his mouth found hers. 

The hand in her hair tightened at the sound, and his other slid down towards her waist, but at the last minute he remembered her injury and dropped it suddenly to her hip and after the briefest of hesitations, he moved it lower, running it lightly over the curve of her behind before returning it to a more neutral position at the small of her back. _Large_ , she realized. His hands were large and warm through the silk of her dress, and strong, and she wanted to feel them on every inch of her body. She went up on her toes in an attempt to get closer, or maybe she actually was trying to climb him like a tree. 

_Once upon a time there was a prince…_ she heard again, but this time she remembered the rest of the sentence and her eyes flew open, even as she continued to kiss Sebastian. 

_Once upon a time there was a prince who was everything a prince should be: honest and good and truthful, and with eyes bluer than the heavens._

She’d been eight or nine when she’d read that story, read it over and over again, had even told Da and Bethany that she was going to marry a prince just like the one in the story; Carver had overheard and she’d endured merciless teasing from Carver about it for years afterwards and suddenly she was laughing out loud right against Sebastian’s mouth. 

Sebastian raised his head giving her a questioning look. 

And seeing those blue eyes full on she couldn’t seem to stop laughing. 

And Sebastian, to his credit, instead of being appalled, was smiling back at her. 

“I’m sorry.” She said. “Something popped into my head, something so ridiculous I couldn’t help laughing.” 

“Will you share it?” He asked. 

It only took a second of imagining trying to explain her convoluted thinking and her odd childhood obsession with blue-eyed princes for her to shake her head laughing and blushing at the thought of it.

“No, not now, not yet. Maybe when we’re old and gray and dandling our grandchildren on our knees.” Her eyes widened in horror when she realized what she’d just said. “Not, that we’ll have grandchildren.” She babbled. “Or dandle them. Or go gray. Not together, I mean. I mean we might separately of course, or together, it’s not out of the question, but I’m not assuming...” 

And then, thank the Maker, Sebastian did some pouncing of his own, silencing her with another kiss, slower and softer this time, and she sank into it gratefully, pressing herself closer to him. 

A blue-eyed prince. Of all the far-fetched fantasies she’d ever had about love and romance and boyfriends, that this one should just materialize like this seemed ridiculous. Wonderful, but utterly ridiculous.

_Once upon a time there was a prince…_

And he was hers. 

She knew it, completely, unshakably and she didn’t know how she knew it, but she did, and it was wonderful, and frightening but not in a bad way. They broke the kiss and she buried her face in his chest, breathing in the scent of him. He was hers. 

“You pounced.” She said, her voice muffled against the linen waistcoat.

He laughed. “You pounced first.”

She felt her cheeks grow hot though she was smiling so hard her cheeks were ach. “I did.” She admitted. “I’m sorry.” 

“Are you?”

She raised her face laughing up at him. “No, not even a little. Did you mind?” She asked tilting her head as she looked at him.

He brushed a curl back from her face. “Not even a little.” 

Her dimple danced at the corner of her mouth. “Oh, good. Because there’s every chance I might do it again, sooner rather than later.” 

“I look forward to it.” He reached out cupping her face in his hand, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone, and there was a sudden heat in his eyes that made her blush. “I’ve missed you Anabel Hawke. Quite disproportionately, considering I’ve know you for scarcely a week.”

There was a low urgency to the words that sent her pulse racing again. “I’ve missed you too.” She said softly and leaned her forehead against his chest feeling suddenly shy. 

When had she ever felt shy? Her fingers brushed against cool metal and when she pulled back slightly she realized it was a gold chain going into the pocket of his waistcoat. A smile curved her lips as she traced the chain and gave it a gentle tug pulling out a gold pocket watch. Simple, classic, with only the barest of ornamentation. 

A pocket watch. She’d never seen anyone wear one, but like the suit, on Sebastian it seemed natural somehow. 

“How does it open?” She asked. And he took it from her hands, pressed something and it popped open. There was a painted miniature on the inside, exquisitely rendered. “That’s the royal palace in Starkhaven, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Sebastian confirmed watching her looking at it. 

It was all shining white stone and towers and turrets and arched windows. A fairy tale palace, and the thought made her smile again. _Once upon a time there was a prince_. “It’s beautiful. The castle and the watch both. Is it an heirloom?” 

“It is. It was given to me by my grandfather, and it was his grandfather’s before that. There’s an inscription on the back.” He said. 

She immediately turned it over. “Do not squander time for that is the stuff life is made of,” she read and looked up at him with a delighted smile. “That’s one of my favorite quotes, but they left off the best part.” 

Sebastian looked at her in surprise. “You know it?” 

“ _Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time for that is the stuff life is made of_ ” She recited. “I suppose the whole thing wouldn’t fit on a pocket watch. I saw it in a book somewhere and after losing Da and Bethany it resonated. I suppose it’s why I run around like such a mad women trying to see and do everything.”

“Fear of squandering time?” He asked softly.

“That’s part of it but it’s as if I feel I’ve an obligation not to squander their time as well, the time they didn’t get to squander themselves. I’ve never said that aloud,” she said, wondering why she had now.

A small crease had appeared between her brow, and he somehow resisted the temptation to reach up and stroke it away. “And what about the first part of the quote?” 

“Dost I love life?” She paraphrased. Her dimple flashed again. “Oh, I dost indeed. “ She said with a laugh. 

Yes, and it showed in everything she did. She was looking at the watch again and he watched her, drinking in the sight of her. _Let me have this, have her and that will be all the happiness I need._

She closed it and slipped it back into the pocket. “It’s an odd coincidence that quote would be on this watch, isn’t it?” 

“Another coincidence.” He commented, thinking of the portrait he’d purchased.

Her smile let him know she was thinking of it too. She reached up and straightened his tie, which she’d pulled askew when she’d pounced. “You’re going to stick around for a while now, right? No running off again any time soon?” 

“I’ve no intention of doing so, but if I do perhaps I’ll take you with me.”

From the brilliant smile she gave him the idea pleased her. “Kiss me again.” She ordered. 

“You’re very bossy.” He said with a teasing smile.

“I am." She agreed. "Kiss me anyway.”

Smiling, he bent down and did so, a gentle kiss, teasingly chaste so that when he lifted his head to break it she went up on her toes, following him to keep that from happening. 

He almost gave into the temptation, but forced himself to stop. “Shouldn’t we join the others?” he reminded her. 

She stared at him in confusion and then started laughing. “For a moment I had no idea what you were talking about. Honestly, I’m the worst maid of honor ever. Aveline should fire me. Aveline may fire me if I don’t get in there and start attending to my duties.” She couldn’t help going up on her toes for one more kiss. “How do I look? Face where it’s supposed to be?” 

“You look beautiful. And your face is just where I like it.” 

She slipped her hand into his and led him towards the door inside. “You’ll have to dance with me you know. The wedding party has to join the bride and groom during their first dance.” 

“As long as it’s not the Chicken Dance or the Hokey-Pokey I would be more than happy to dance with you.” 

She laughed at the idea of Sebastian Vael doing either of those. “You’re in luck. Aveline forbade both of those, along with the Electric Slide. And I happen to know for a fact the first dance song is something slow and romantic. A real torch song. You’ll like the singer. In fact I think you already might.”

“Is it someone well known?” He asked. 

She pursed her lips pretending to think about it. “Well she’s been moving in some increasingly important circles of late. Even gotten her picture in the papers a once or twice.”

Sebastian tried to think of someone who fit that description. “Who is she?”

Anabel’s eyes were twinkling as she pushed open the door. “Me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [A Happy Accident photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/a+happy+accident)


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